PHYLLIS' FIELD FRIENDS 





Class QiLJolk. 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



BIRD STORIES 









Phyllis' Field Friends 

BY 

Lenore E. Mulets 

Each i voL> large i2mo, cloth decorative, 
with 6 full-page plates from drawings 
by Sophie Schneider. Per vol., 8oc. net. 
Postpaid, 95c. 



INSECT STORIES 

BIRD STORIES 

FLOWER STORIES 

STORIES OF LITTLE ANIMALS 

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 

New England Building, Boston, Mass. 












He came quite 
close and stared 
at the little girl " 

(See page 4) 




pijglUs' jFtdto jFrienfcs 



BIRD STORIES 



By 
Lenore Elizabeth Mulets 

Illustrated by 

Sophie Schneider 



1 When our babe he goeth walking in his garden 
Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play ; 
The posies they are good to hint 
A nd bow them as they should to him, 
As he fare th upon his kingly way : 
The birdlings of the wood to him 

Make music, gentle music, all the day 

When ottr babe lie goeth walking in his garden" 

— Eugene Field. 




Boston: & L. C. Page 
and Company <£ 1904. 






j 






■ 



. 




7*3X1 



Copyright, igoj 

By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 



t re 



A Kublished November, 1903 



Colonial Press 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 

Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 



PREFACE 

Where can you find a. lad who does not 
treasure among his secrets the nesting-place 
of some pair of birds? Where can you find 
a child who does not watch for the first robin 
of spring-time ? Where can you find one who 
does not know when the wild ducks in the 
wedge-shaped flocks fly southward? 

This little book of " Bird Stories " is writ- 
ten both for the children who already know 
our common birds, and for those who may 
know them if they choose. 

For those children who know, the book is 
a verification of their own facts, with an 
addition of stories, poems, and songs to make 



Ti PBEFACE 

facts beautiful; for the children who do not 
know, the book is a simple set of facts placed 
before them for verification and entertain- 
ment. 

To all, may the knowledge obtained be a 
pleasure and a delight. 

Lenore Elizabeth Mulets. 



CONTENTS 



The Chickadee 

In the Snow .... 

Twenty Little Chickadees . 

The Snowbird's Song . 

How the Birds Got Their Feathers 

Chilly Little Chickadees 

All About the Chickadee 

Robin Redbreast 

Merry Robin Redbreast 
The Robin's Red Breast 
Which Was the Wiser ? 
All About the Robin . 

The Swallow 

Under the Eaves .... 
The Swallows .... 
All About the Barn Swallow 

The Hawk and the Raven 
From the Barnyard Fence . 
The First Hawk .... 
Origin of the Raven and the Macaw 
All About the Chicken-Hawk 
All About the Raven . 

The Kingfisher 

With the Water Watchman 

The Halcyon Birds 

All About the Kingfisher 



3 

18 
19 
22 
28 
30 

33 
44 
50 
54 

59 

68 

72 

77 
86 
90 
99 
101 

105 
120 
130 



vn 



Vlll 



CONTENTS 



The Red-Headed Woodpecker 
In Cap of Red .... 

A Legend of the Northland . 
All About the Woodpecker . 

The Lark 

In the Meadow .... 
The Song of the Merry Lark 
Saved by a Lark . 
All About the Meadow Lark 

The Owl 

A Good-Night .... 
The Owl Girl .... 
The Owl and the Raven 

The Owl 

All About the Barred or Hoot Owl 



PAGE 

135 
144 
150 

155 
167 
171 

178 

183 
187 
190 
200 
201 

205 
212 
214 



The Bobolink 

A Summer Song. .... 
Robert of Lincoln .... 
All About the Bobolink or Rice - Bird . 

The Sea-Doves and the Great Blue Heron 

Beside the Sea 219 

Sea-Pigeons ...... 225 

The Sandpiper 229 

The Circling of Cranes .... 232 

All About the Great Blue Heron or Blue 

Crane ....... 238 

All About the Sea-Dove . . . .240 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 



' He came quite close and stared at the 

little girl " (see page 4) . Frontispiece - 

' By this time the robin was on the 

ground " 35 

i ' No robin or chickadee could build 

such nests as the swallow ' " . . 65 

' On a branch sat a bird. He was con- 
siderably larger than a robin " . 107 

4 The owl only blinked his great eyes " . 184 

; ' She is sitting on a nestf ul of light blue 

eggs '" 207 



THE CHICKADEE 
OR SNOWBIRD 



THE CHICKADEE 

OR SNOWBIRD 

IN THE SNOW 

It was a bright, wintry day. The frost 
jewels sparkled on the snow r . The winds 
blew cutting cold from the north. 

Phyllis, in her scarlet coat and cap, and 
long, warm leggings, w r aded in the deepest 
drifts she could find. 

Out by the garden fence was the greatest 
drift. After floundering through it, Phyllis 
climbed up and perched on the top rail of the 
fence. 



4 THE CHICKADEE 

She sat quite still, for she was almost 
breathless after her struggle in the snow. 

Suddenly, just over her head, Phyllis heard 
a whistle. She started so that she almost fell 
from the fence. 

Again came the whistle, clear, sweet, and 
long drawn out. Phyllis looked up, and there 
on the branch of the elm-tree sat a cheery little 
bird. 

With a third whistle he flew down to the 
fence and perched beside Phyllis. 

He came quite close and stared at the little 
girl in a gay, curious manner, as though he 
might be looking for a playfellow. 

" Who are you? " asked Phyllis, looking 
like a great red bird as she perched on the 
fence. 

" Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee- 
dee-dee! " twittered the little fellow. It 



IN THE SNOW 5 

seemed to Phyllis that he laughed because she 
did not know him. 

" Oh, to be sure/' said she. " How stupid 
of me not to remember. I have met you a 
hundred times. 

" I should have remembered your black 
head and throat. The sides of your head and 
neck are white. Your breasts and sides are 
light yellow. Your tail and wings are of a 
much darker shade, and how daintily they are 
edged with white! " 

The chickadee fluttered about for a mo- 
ment, and noticing the friendliness in Phyl- 
lis 's tones he perched a little closer to her side. 

U I do not believe you noticed the large 
white feathers in my shoulders/' he said. 
" You may always know a chickadee by the 
white markings there.' ' 

" I did not notice your white shoulders at 



6 THE CHICKADEE 

first/ ' said Phyllis, " but I saw at once what 
fine downy feathers you have. They are beau- 
tifully soft. Do they make a warm winter 
dress? How do you chance to be here in the 
winter-time? 

" I think it is time you were in the South, 
Mr. Chickadee! Did your family leave you 
behind? " 

" No, indeed, " replied Mr. Chickadee. " No, 
indeed, Phyllis ! My entire family are winter- 
ing here in the North. We never go South for 
the winter. 

" We are quite happy to remain here at 
home, and to come out on sunshiny days and 
whistle and sing and be happy. 

" Only half an hour ago some boys went 
coasting down that hill. I whistled at them 
but they did not hear me. 

" Soon they came up the hill, drawing their 



IN THE SNOW 7 

sleds behind them. I whistled again and 
called my name. 

" ' Why, hello/ cried a boy in a blue reefer 
and a blue stocking cap. ' Hello, chickadee, 
you're a jolly little fellow! We call you our 
fair weather friend because you sing so 
cheerily on these clear frosty days/ 

" ' Oho! ' laughed another boy, who had a 
big scratch on his nose, ' I saw a chickadee 
flying about among the fir-trees on that very 
stormy day last week. He sang just as 
cheerily through the storm.' Then the boy 
whistled back to me and called my name." 

" That was my brother Jack," laughed 
Phyllis. " He got that scratch while out 
coasting. He told me that he saw you on that 
stormy day. He loves the winter quite as well 
as you do. You should hear him sing and 
whistle when the snow falls for coasting. You 



8 THE CHICKADEE 

should hear him shout when the cold skating 
days come. He says that Jack Frost is a fel- 
low's best friend." 

" Indeed," said the jolly little chickadee, 
blinking his eyes in a funny way, " my 
brothers say the very same thing! " 

" But how do you find anything to eat in 
the winter-time? " Phyllis asked. " The in- 
sects and worms have long been dead. What 
did you have for breakfast this morning? ' 

" We had eggs and — " 

" Eggs? " cried Phyllis, not waiting for the 
bird to finish. " You had eggs? " 

" Yes, moth's eggs," said the bird. " The 
moths leave their eggs about in all sorts of 
places. We chickadees know where to find 
them! " 

" Are they — good? " asked Phyllis. 

" Delicious! " replied the chickadee. " I 



IN THE SNOW 9 

think I have eaten more than a million insects' 
eggs in my life. I shall never tire of them." 

" Where do you sleep? " Phyllis asked. 

" In the fir-trees, to be sure," was the reply. 
" It is quite warm in there, among the many 
branches, and as soon as we waken we can 
get our breakfasts. There are all sorts of 
eggs and sleeping insects among the fir 
branches." 

Phyllis looked from her own thick red leg- 
gings to the chickadee's light blue legs. 

" Don't your feet get very cold? " she 
asked. " You surely need some leggings." 

The chickadee chirruped and twittered and 
fluttered until Phyllis suddenly saw that he 
was laughing at her. 

" I don't know what cold feet are! " he said. 
" I'm glad no one gave me red leggings for 
Christmas." 



10 THE CHICKADEE 

" .What did you get for Christmas? " 

" A wonderfully fine dinner spread on a 
white snow table-cloth under the cherry- 
tree! " replied the bird. 

" Oh, did you come to my bird feast? " cried 
the little girl. " I spread crumbs and bird 
seed for you. Jack wanted to hang a meat bone 
in the cedar-tree. He said that you would like 
it better. Indeed, I believe he did hang one 
there. Did you ever see it? " 

" Oh, yes, Phyllis, many a day have we 
pecked away at that meat bone. It was really 
very good." 

" Jack read in a book that you were fond 
of pecking at meat bones. He will be glad to 
know that it is true! " 

" Thank him for us," said the chickadee. 
" You were kind to remember us! " 

"Ah," said Phyllis, " but it was kind of 



IN THE SNOW 11 

you to remain behind to cheer us when 
all the other birds have gone to warmer 
lands. 

" But, chickadee, though you are so cheery 
and gay in winter, are you not really happier 
in the summer-time? " 

" Oh, we are so busy in summer/' the chick- 
adee replied. " Last May I travelled miles 
and miles looking for a vacant house." 

' ' Looking for a vacant house ? ' ' cried Phyl- 
lis, with wide brown eves. 

" For housekeeping," said the chickadee. 
1 ' You see my mate and I had never kept house 
before. She was very anxious to find a most 
suitable place. 

" My wife said a woodpecker's nest was the 
very place, but I rather preferred a squirrel's 
hole. 

" For a long time we could find neither to 



12 THE CHICKADEE 

suit us. But at length I heard Mrs. Chickadee 
calling loudly. I flew to her side at once. 

" ' What is it? ' I cried. 

" ' Look! ' cried Mrs. Chickadee, pointing 
with her bill and flapping her wings with joy. 

" Through the thick of the woods ran a 
gray old rail fence. Woodbine and wild hop 
vines wellnigh covered it. The posts were 
gray where they were not moss-covered. 

" In one of these gray-green posts was a 
hole where a pair of woodpeckers had once 
built their nest. 

" i This is the very place for us! ' cried Mrs. 
Chickadee. ' It could not be better though we 
hollowed it out for ourselves/ " 

" Could you? " asked Phyllis, looking at the 
bird's little short black bill. 

" If need be, we could, indeed/' replied the 
chickadee. " But we would far rather find a 



IN THE SNOW 13 

knot-hole, or a squirrel's or woodpecker's de- 
serted nest. 

" When we had decided on the spot," the 
bird went on, " we at once began lining the 
nest. We carried fine grasses and soft 
feathers. We found mosses and rabbits' fur 
to make it soft. 

" Those w r ere indeed happy days for us. 
They were also exciting days. We were very 
careful to let no one know what we were about. 

" Once, as I flew home with a bit of moss, 
I saw a boy lying on the grass not far from 
our fence-post. It would never do to let him 
know our secret. Boys are not to be trusted. 

" I perched upon the fence and pretended 
that I had never a thought of nest building. 

u Ina moment Mrs. Chickadee came flying 
home with a soft, downy feather. When I 
called out warningly she at once flew to me. 



14 THE CHICKADEE 

" Then the boy called softly to his little 
sister. 

" ' Come quick/ he said, ' if you want to 
watch these birds build their nest.' 

" A little dark-eyed girl crept up beside the 
boy. We scarcely knew what to do. Soon a 
bright idea occurred to me. I began to sing 
my very best. I also performed my most 
wonderful tricks. I whirled round and 
round. I darted between the rails. I spun 
about. 

" The children became so interested in my 
performance that they forgot to watch Mrs. 
Chickadee. When they were not looking her 
way, she flew to the nest and arranged the 
feather. 

" When she returned she took my place on 
the fence. Now my wife and I look very much 
alike, and though she cannot perform quite as 



IN THE SNOW 15 

nimbly as I, the children did not know when 
we changed places. 

" While the children watched her I flew to 
the nest with my bit of moss. 

" ' What a pity! ' said the little girl, as we 
flew away laughing to ourselves. ' They 
stopped to play and they lost the bits of moss 
and feathers with which they meant to make 
their nest ! ' 

" ' Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! ' 
called back my wife happily/ ' 

All this time Phyllis 's eyes were growing 
rounder and bigger. 

" Why," said she, " I never knew there was 
but one bird performing on the fence. I 
thought the other flew away! " 

" That was because Mrs. Chickadee and I 
look so much alike," replied Mr. Chickadee. 

" But we did find your nest a few days 



16 THE CHICKADEE 

later/ ' said Phyllis. " In it were six small 
white eggs covered with tiny red specks. We 
went to look at the nest every day until the 
eggs hatched. Then we went several times a 
day until the baby birds learned to fly and 
left the nest empty. 

" But you did not disturb us," said the 
chickadee, " though we were dreadfully 
frightened at first." 

At that moment a great soft snowball went 
plump! against Phyllis 's red cap. 

" Jack! " she cried, scrambling off the fence 
and running after the boy with the scratch on 
his nose. " Jack, take me for a ride on your 
sled! " 

Then she looked back. The chickadee now 
sat in the tree-top. 

" Tell Mrs. Chickadee," called Phyllis, 
" that I shall spread some more crumbs and 



IN THE SNOW 17 

seeds on the white table-cloth this afternoon. 
We'll hang another bone in the cedar- tree, 
too! " 

" Chick-a-dee-dee-dee! " cried the little bird 
in a flutter of delight. 



TWENTY LITTLE CHICKADEES 

Twenty little chickadees, 

Sitting in a row; 
Twenty pairs of naked feet 

Buried in the snow. 
I should think you'd fly away 

Where the weather's warm, 
Then you wouldn't have to be 

Out there in the storm. 

Sorry little chickadees, 

Don't you know the way? 
Can't you find the road to go 

Where 'tis always May? 
Robins all have found it out, 

Wrens and bluebirds too, 
Don't you wish you'd thought to ask 

Ere away they flew? 

18 



THE SNOWBIRD'S SONG 1 

The ground was all covered with snow, one 

day. 
And two little sisters were busy at play — 
A snowbird was sitting close by on a tree, 
And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee! 

He had not been singing that tune very long, 

When Emily heard him, so loud was his song. 

fcfc Oh, sister, look out of the window! " said 
she, 

" Here's a dear little bird, singing chick-a-de- 
dee! 

" Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the 
sleet 

1 From "The Second Reader — of the Rational Method in Read- 
ing." 

19 



20 THE CHICKADEE 

And has neither stockings nor shoes on his 

feet, 
I wonder what makes him so full of his glee, 
And why he keeps singing his chick-a-de-dee. 

" If I were a barefooted snowbird, I know, 
I would not stay out in the cold and the snow. 
I pity him so! Oh, how cold he must be, 
And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-dee. 

" Oh, mother, do get him some stockings and 
shoes, 

And a nice little frock, and a hat, let him 
choose. 

I wish he'd come into the parlour, and see 

How warm we would make him, poor chick-a- 
de-dee! " 

The bird had flown down for some sweet 
crumbs of bread, 



THE SNOWBIRD'S SONG 21 

And heard every word little Emily said. 

" How funny I'd look in that costume! " 

thought he, 
And he laughed, as he warbled his chick-a-de- 

dee. 

" I am grateful," said he, " for the wish you 

express, 
But I have no occasion for such a fine dress. 
I'd rather remain with my little limbs free, 
Than to hobble about singing chick-a-de-dee. 

" There is One, my dear child, though I can- 
not tell who, 

Has clothed me already, and warm enough, 
too. 

Good morning! Oh, who are so happy as we? " 

And away he flew, singing his chick-a-de-dee. 



HOW THE BIRDS GOT THEIR 
FEATHERS 

(IROQUOIS MYTH) 

That evening, as the family sat beside the 
hearth, Phyllis thought of the brave little 
chickadees out in the fir-trees. 

" I wonder if they are really warm enough/' 
she said. " Do feathers make a warm dress, 
mother? Why do birds have feathers instead 
of fur? " 

" I have heard the story that the Indians 
tell of how the birds got their feathers/' said 
mother. " Bring your chairs closer and I will 
tell the story to you." 

So the children drew their chairs up into 
the firelight, and listened to this little Indian 
story: 

22 



HOW BIRDS GOT FEATHERS 23 

" Once some little Indian children," began 
the mother, " gathered about the fire inside 
their deerskin wigwam and begged their 
mother for a story. 

" Each little Indian w r as w y rapped in a 
bright coloured blanket. Each little Indian 
wore long turkey buzzard feathers in his hair. 

" The Indian mother looked at her baby 
braves proudly. She thought of the time 
when each of the children was a tiny papoose 
and swung in a deerskin cradle like a bird in 
its nest. 

« * There was a time/ said the Indian 
squaw, ' when the birds had no feathers. 

" ' Being naked, they remained hidden 
among the leaves. Being ashamed they were 
silent, and no bird-note sweetened the stillness 
of the forest. 

" ' At last with faint chirpings the mother 



24 THE CHICKADEE 

birds prayed the Great Spirit for blankets in 
which to wrap their little ones. 

" ' Then the Great Spirit, seeing their sorry 
plight, sent a messenger to the birds, who told 
them that even now coverings were ready for 
every bird. 

" ' The messenger said that hereafter each 
family of birds should dress in uniform, so 
that the forest people, seeing a bird, might 
know at once, by its dress, to what bird family 
it belonged. 

" ' But alas! the messenger also said that 
the uniforms were a great way off. He him- 
self could not bring them to the forest. The 
birds must choose one who was strong of wing 
and able to endure great hardships, to go back 
with him and bring the uniforms home. 

" ' The poor featherless birds looked about 
for one who was brave and fearless and un- 



HOW BIRDS GOT FEATHERS 25 

tiring. A council was held to induce some bird 
to go on this long journey. 

" ' But one and all pleaded some excuse. 
Some must remain to care for the babes still 
in the nest. Some were too old to undertake 
the journey. Some were too young to find the 
way. 

" ' Some had been ill and were still too 
weak to travel. Indeed, the birds seemed to 
be in as sad a plight as before. 

" ' At last there stepped forth a bird, who, 
truth to tell, was not a general favourite 
among his fellows. His name was turkey buz- 
zard. 

" ' The bird agreed to undertake the long 
journey and bring back the featheiy uniforms, 
if he could choose the most beautiful coat 
of feathers for himself and his family for 
ever. 



26 THE CHICKADEE 



U i 



To this the other birds consented, and 
the featherless turkey buzzard flew away. 

" ' It was indeed a long and a dangerous 
journey. Sometimes the poor bird nearly 
dropped from weariness and hunger. Some- 
times, so hungry was he, that he was forced 
to make a meal off from some dead animal 
which lay in the way. Indeed so often did 
he do this that in time he came to like this 
food. 

" ' It came to pass, after many days, that 
the turkey buzzard, being directed by the 
Great Spirit, found the feathery uniforms. 

" ' He at once began to look them over. He 
intended to choose the most beautiful coat 
of feathers for himself and his family. 

" ' Soon he found a suit of most gorgeous 
colours. He tried it on, and looked at his own 
reflection in the water. The dress was very 



HOW BIRDS GOT FEATHERS 27 

beautiful. Well pleased with himself and his 
dress the turkey buzzard gathered up the re- 
maining uniforms and started for home. 

" ' But alas! the new dress, although so 
beautiful, did not fit comfortably. The poor 
bird found that he could not fly well in his 
new dress. He tried another and still another 
bright coloured dress, but in none of them was 
he comfortable. 

" * At length, quite discouraged, he slipped 
into a quiet, dark uniform. Although this suit 
was the least beautiful it fitted comfortably 
and gracefully. In it the turkey buzzard flew 
away home, and in such uniform have his 
family ever since been content to dress. 

" ' The turkey buzzards are quite willing 
to leave the more gorgeous dresses for those 
birds who cannot fly so far nor so gracefully 
as the v.' " 



CHILLY LITTLE CHICKADEES 1 

Chilly little chickadees, 

Sitting in a row, 
Chilly little chickadees, 

Buried in the snow, 
Don't you find it very cold 

For your little feet? 
Don't you find it hard to get 

Anything to eat? 

Hungry little chickadees, 
Would you like some bread? 

I will give you all you want, 
Or some seed, instead, 

1 Prom " Songs and Games for Little Ones," by permission of 
Oliver Ditson Company, owners of the copyright. 

28 



CHILLY LITTLE CHICKADEES 29 

Anything you like to eat 

I will give you free, 
Every morning, every night, 

If you come to me. 

Jolly little chickadees, 

Have you had enough? 
Don't forget to come again 

When the weather's rough. 
Bye, bye, happy little birds ! 

Off the wee things swarm, 
Flying through the driving snow, 

Singing in the storm. 



ALL ABOUT THE CHICKADEE 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS. 

Does not go south in winter. 

Song — two or three clear long whistles and 
the chirping of his own name, " chickadee/' 

A gay, curious little bird. 

Black head and throat — sides of head and 
neck white — breast grayish buff — wings 
and tail darker shade edged with white — 
larger feathers of shoulders white. 

Food — seeds and dormant insects or larval 
eggs. — Valuable as an insect destroyer. 

Builds in hollow places — usually deserted 
woodpeckers' or squirrels' nests — sometimes 
hollows place for itself. 

Six white eggs speckled with red — young 
birds, male and female much alike in colour- 
ing. 

30 



ROBIN REDBREAST 



31 



ROBIN REDBREAST 

MERRY ROBIN REDBREAST 

" Robin, robin redbreast, 

Singing on the bough, 
Come and get your breakfast, 

We will feed you now. 
Robin likes the golden grain, 
Nods his head and sings again: 

' Chirping, chirping cheerily, 
Here I come so merrily, 

Thank you, children dear! ' " 

Thus sang Phyllis one morning during the 
second week in March. 
In the topmost bough of the old apple-tree 

33 



34 ROBIN REDBREAST 

sat Robin Redbreast, looking altogether 
doubtful as to whether he liked the little girl's 
song. 

But when he saw the grains of wheat which 
the child was scattering on the ground for his 
breakfast, he thought better of his doubt. 

He hopped lower on the branches. He 
turned his little head on one side and looked 
at Phyllis in a very friendly fashion. 

" Come on down! " Phyllis begged. " I am 
so glad that you have returned. I am so glad 
that you came to this very apple-tree and 
sang so strong and loud and clear! " 

" Chirp! Chirp! " and the robin hopped 
again nearer. 

" You see," Phyllis went on, in her coaxing 
little, voice, " my brother Jack, being a boy, 
said he would be the one to see the first robin 
this year. 




" Dy this time the 
■— ' robin was on 
the ground" 



MERRY ROBIN REDBREAST 35 

" But I made up my mind that if watchful 
eyes and careful ears could help a little girl, 
I would get ahead of Jack. 

" Sure enough, the first thing I heard this 
morning was your sweet song. When did you 
arrive 1 Aren't you rather early? " 

By this time the robin was on the ground, 
pecking away at the grain. As he ate his 
breakfast he told his story. 

" I have been south all winter long/' he 
said. "It is very lovely in the southland. 
Food is plenty, the days are long, and the 
sunshine is golden, bright, and warm. 

" But as soon as the spring days came I 
grew restless. I knew the snow was begin- 
ning to melt and the grass to grow green in 
my old home country. I wanted to start north 
at once. 

" I spoke to my little mate about it, and 



36 ROBIN REDBREAST 

found her to be as homesick as I. So we flew 
north a little earlier than usual this year, and 
arrived ahead of the others. We are now 
quite anxious to get to housekeeping, and are 
already looking for a suitable place for a 
nest." 

" If you will build near us," said Phyllis, 
" I will help you care for your little ones. I 
will give you all the crumbs that you can eat." 

" Oh! oh! " chirped the robin; " you are 
very kind, Phyllis, but I hardly think you 
w^ould know how to feed bird babies. 

" You see our babies are so fond of bugs 
and worms and all sorts of insects, that they 
do not care for crumbs when they can have 
nice fat worms. 

" We sometimes feed berries and cherries 
to our babies. We older birds often eat fruit, 
but really we like worms and bugs better." 



MERRY ROBIN REDBREAST 37 

" The robins ate all the cherries from the 
top of our cherry-tree last year," said Phyllis. 

" Yes, we did eat some of your cherries," 
admitted the robin. " They were very sweet 
and juicy. 

" There are people who say that we rob- 
ins are a nuisance, and that we destroy so 
much fruit that they wish we would never 
come near them. The fact is, we do more 
good than harm to your orchards and berry 
patches. Just think how many insects we 
destroy! If it were not for us I think much 
more fruit would be destroyed by insects. 
And worms and caterpillars would be crawling 
everywhere. 

" A robin is a very greedy fellow. He eats 
nearly all the time. I could not begin to tell 
you how many insects I have eaten during my 
life. 



38 ROBIN REDBREAST 

" There are cutworms, too, which live 
underground. During the night they come 
out for food. We robins are early risers, and 
often catch the slow worms before they can 
get back to their underground homes/ ' 

" Ah," laughed Phyllis, " that must be the 
reason that we say that the early bird catches 
the worm." 

" When our babies come," said the robin, 
" we are very busy, indeed. Those young 
mouths seem always to be open, begging for 
more food. 

" My mother says that when I was a baby 
robin she was kept busy all day long. 

" There were four baby birds in the nest. 
I myself ate about seventy worms in a day. 
My brother and sisters had as good appetites 
as I." 

" Will you build here in the apple-tree? " 



MERRY ROBIN REDBREAST 39 

asked Pirellis. " I should so like to watch 
you. Besides, there is a garden just beneath 
with millions of bugs and insects there." 

" Oh, yes," replied the robin. " We shall 
surely build there. You will find that robins 
like to build near your home. We have a very 
friendly feeling towards people. That is the 
reason that we hop about your lawn so much 
and that we waken you by singing near your 
window in the early morning." 

" I have heard that robins are not very 
good nest-builders," said Phyllis. " I was 
told that a great number of robins' nests were 
blown down by every hard storm." 

" More are destroyed than I like to think 
about," said the robin. " But my father and 
mother raised three families of birds in their 
nest last season. 

" Early in the spring they were very busy 



40 ROBIN REDBREAST 

about their nest-building. First they brought 
sticks, straw, weeds, and roots. With these 
they laid the foundation in what seemed a 
very careless fashion, among the boughs. 

" Then here on this foundation they wove 
the round nest of straws and weeds. They 
plastered it with mud. They lined it with soft 
grasses and moss. 

" In this nest my mother laid four beautiful 
greenish-blue eggs. From the first egg that 
cracked open I crept out. From the three 
other eggs came my brother and sisters. 

" We were not handsome babies. I don't 
believe bird babies ever are beautiful at first. 
We had no feathers, and our mouths were so 
big and yellow. 

" We were always hungry, for we were 
growing very fast. Our mouths flew open at 
every little noise. We thought every sound 



MERRY ROBIN REDBREAST 41 

was the flutter of our parents' wings. Tliey 
always brought such fine food for us." 

The robin pecked away at his breakfast for 
some time before he spoke again. Then he 
again took up the story of his life. 

" How well I remember being taught to 
fly," he said. " How our mother coaxed us to 
try our wings. How timid and feeble we were ! 
One of my sisters fell to the ground and a 
great gray cat caught her. 

" Our wings were very weak then and our 
feathers were still short. I then had no beau- 
tiful red breast. It was just a rusty looking 
white spotted with black. 

" My mother's breast was not so red as my 
father's. She was of a paler colour and she 
sang much loss than he. She was a very 
happy little mother, however, and she chirped 
very sweetly to her babies. 



42 BOBIN REDBREAST 

" After we flew from tlie nest, and were 
able to look out for ourselves, my mother laid 
four more greenish-blue eggs in the same nest. 
By and bye four more young robins were 
chirping about in the garden. 

" Quite late in the season my parents were 
again nesting. But it was rather unfortunate 
that they did so. A great storm came up and 
a branch broke from the tree and destroyed 
the four blue eggs. 

" It was shortly after this mishap that the 
robins flew south for the winter. 

" My brother, who was always a brave, 
cheery fellow, thought he would rather stay 
here. I wonder how he fared. I have not yet 
seen him." 

" I have not seen him lately, but he was 
here during the winter," said Phyllis. " I 
dare say you will find him soon. 



99 



MERRY ROBIN REDBREAST 43 

" Well," said the robin, picking up the last 
grain of wheat, " I thank you, Phyllis, for this 
fine breakfast. 

" I will only say ' good morning. 9 I think 
you will see me again. Perhaps I will show 
you where we build our nest." 

" I am grateful to you," replied Phyllis. 
" You see the cherry-tree grows beside Jack's 
window. You might have sung your morning 
song there." 



THE ROBIN'S EED BREAST 1 

It was very cold in the north country. The 
ice was thick and the snow was deep. 

The seal and the white bear were happy. 
They liked the ice, the snow, and the cutting 
north wind, for their fur was thick and warm. 

One night the great white bear climbed to 
the top of an immense iceberg. He looked far 
across the country. The fields of snow and 
the beautiful northern lights made the night 
almost as light as day. 

The white bear saw no living thing save 
a few fur-clad animals and a little gray robin 

1 Adapted from Flora J. Cook's "Nature Myths," by permis- 
sion of A. Flanigan, Chicago. 

44 



THE ROBIN'S RED BREAST 45 

chirping cheerily as it picked away at an old 
bone. 

Again the white bear looked down. Almost 
at the foot of the iceberg crouched a hunter 
and his little son. Between the two a tiny 
fire was blazing. 

When the white bear saw the hunter and 
the boy guarding the fire he growled terribly. 
He leaped across from one iceberg to another. 
He went into his icy cave still growling. 

"It is the only fire in the whole north 
country," growled the white bear to himself. 
" If I could only put out that fire the land 
of ice and snow would be mine. 

" Neither the hunter nor the hunter's son 
could live without fire. I will watch my 
chance. Perhaps some day I shall be so lucky 
as to put the fire out." 

Now the Eskimo night is weeks long. All 



46 ROBIN REDBREAST 

through, the long night the hunter kept the 
fire. All through the long night the white 
bear crouched near and growled deeply. 

At length the hunter fell ill. The brave 
little boy kept the fire burning. He also cared 
for his sick father. 

The white bear crept closer now, and 
growled more loudly. 

He longed to jump on the fire with his wet 
feet and tramp it out. But he dared not. The 
boy's bright eyes watched faithfully. The 
hunter's arrows were deadly, and the boy's 
aim was true. 

But by and bye the boy could endure the 
long watch no longer. His head drooped. His 
eyes closed. He slept. 

The white bear's growl sounded like a hide- 
ous laugh. The little gray robin twittered 
loudly in warning. But the poor tired little 



THE ROBIN'S RED BREAST 47 

fellow heard neither the white bear's growl 
nor the gray robin's twitter. 

Then the white bear ran swiftly to the fire. 
He tramped upon it with his cold wet feet. 
He rolled upon it with his cold wet fur. The 
cheerful blaze died out. 

When he arose the white bear saw only a 
little pile of gray ashes. He laughed so loudly 
that the boy awoke and snatched up his bow 
and arrows. 

But the white bear ran away to his cave, 
still growling laughingly. He knew that no 
human being could live in that cruelly cold 
north country without fire. 

Now when the white bear was gone, the 
little gray robin hopped near. Her chirp was 
quite sad. She, too, saw nothing but a little 
heap of ashes as gray as her own feathers. 

She hopped nearer. She scratched among 



48 ROBIN REDBREAST 

the ashes with her cold little claws. She 
looked eagerly at each cinder with her sharp 
little eyes. She found— a tiny live coal. 

It was only the tiniest spark! The least 
flake of the fast-falling snow would put it out! 

The little gray robin hovered over it that the 
cold wind might not reach the spark. She 
fanned it softly with her wings for a long, 
long time. 

The gray robin hovered so close that the 
coal touched her gray breast. As she fanned 
it glowed larger and redder. Her breast was 
scorched quite red, as the coal grew. 

But the robin did not leave until a fine red 
flame blazed up. 

Then the robin with her poor scorched red 
breast flew away. She flew wearily, for she 
was very tired. Now and again she touched 
the ground. 



THE ROBIN'S RED BREAST 49 

And wherever the robin's red breast 
touched the earth a fire was kindled. Soon 
the whole north country was blazing with tiny 
fires over which the Eskimos might cook their 
food and dry their clothes. 

The white bear crept far, far back into his 
cave. He growled fiercely. He knew now 
that he could never have the north country to 
himself. 



WHICH WAS THE WISER? 1 

One morning in the early spring a raven was 
sitting on one of the branches of an old oak. 
He felt very ugly and cross, and could only 
say, " Croak! Croak! " 

Soon a little robin, who was looking for a 
place to build her nest, came, with a merry 
song, into the same tree. " Good morning to 
you," she said to the raven. 

But the raven made no answer; he only 
looked at the clouds and croaked something 
about the cold wind. " I said good morning 
to you," said the robin, hopping from branch 
to branch. 

1 Permission of American Book Company. 

50 



WHICH WAS THE WISER? 51 

" You seem very merry this morning about 
nothing/' croaked the raven. 

" Why should I not be merry? " asked the 
robin. " Spring has come, and everybody 
should be glad and happy." 

" I am not happy," said the raven. " Don't 
vou see those black clouds above us? It is 
going to snow." 

" Very well," answered the robin, " I 
shall keep on singing till it comes, at any 
rate. A merry song will not make it any 
colder." 

" You are very silly," croaked the raven. 

The robin flew to another tree and kept on 
singing; but the raven sat still and made him- 
self very unhappy. 

" The wind is so cold," he said. " It always 
blows the wrong way for me." 

Very soon the sun came out warm and 



52 ROBIN REDBREAST 

bright, and the clouds went away. But the 
raven was as sad as ever. 

The grass began to spring up in the mead- 
ows. Green leaves and flowers were seen in 
the woods. Birds and bees flew here and there 
in the glad sunshine. The raven sat alone on 
the branch of the old oak. 

"It is always too warm or too cold," said 
he. " To be sure it is quite pleasant just now; 
but I know that the sun will soon shine hot 
enough to burn one up. Then to-morrow it 
will be colder than ever before. I do not see 
how any one can be so silly as to sing at such 
a time as this." 

Just then the robin came back to the tree, 
carrying a straw in her mouth. 

" Well, my friend," asked she, " where is 
your snow? " 

" Don't say anything," croaked the raven. 



WHICH WAS THE WISER? 53 

" It will snow all the harder for this sun- 
shine/ ' 

" And snow or shine," said the robin, " you 
will keep on croaking. For my part, I shall 
look on the bright side of everything, and 
have a song for every day in the year." 

Which was the wiser, the raven or the 
robin? 



ALL ABOUT THE ROBIN 

SUGGESTIONS FOE HELD LESSONS 

One of the first birds to return in the spring 
— migrates north early in March — some- 
times remains during winter— stays north as 
late as October or November. 

Domestic — generally preferring to live 
near the home of man. 

Song — though short and always the same 
is in tone wonderfully expressive of happi- 
ness, love, anger, or fear, as the case may be. 

Black head — wings and tail brown — 
touches of white on throat — entire breast a 
rusty red. — Female duller and paler in col- 
ouring, growing almost as bright as the male 
in the autumn. 

64 



ALL ABOUT THE ROBIN 55 

Food — principally insects and worms — 
does not disdain fruit, berries, cherries, etc., 
but prefers insect food — a ravenous eater. 

Nest — outer layer composed of sticks, 
coarse grasses, etc., seemingly rather care- 
lessly arranged — on this the rather large 
round nest is woven with grasses — plastered 
with mud — lined w T ith softer grasses. 

Eggs — greenish blue — four in number — 
young have black spots on breast — generally 
two broods reared in a season — sometimes 
three. 



THE SWALLOW 



57 



THE SWALLOW 

UNDER THE EAVES 

It was the tenth day of April. Phyllis 
knew the date because it chanced to be her 
birthdaj 7 . She was just eight years old. 

The sun shone very warm and bright, and 
the buds were growing big and red on the 
horse-chestnut-trees. 

" I shall go down to the brook to look for 
pussy-willows this afternoon/' said the little 
girl. 

Phyllis was sitting in the window of the 
barn loft with the sun shining full upon her. 
All was very quiet and the little girl was half 
asleep. 

59 



60 



THE SWALLOW 



Suddenly, with a flash of blue wings and 
a funny little twitter, a bird darted right 
across her face. Phyllis sat up straight, and, 
leaning out of the window, looked up at the 
eaves. 

There she saw the merry twitterer, with sev- 
eral of his companions, who seemed very busy 
and very talkative. 

They darted here and there, they skimmed 
through the air so swiftly that Phyllis could 
only catch a gleam of blue. They wheeled 
and circled and darted. All the time they 
twittered, twittered, twittered. 

" What are they up to? " said Phyllis, lean- 
ing farther out and looking more closely. 

For an instant one of the birds clung to the 
eaves and seemed to be pecking away at a bit 
of mud which was stuck to the eaves. 

Phyllis noticed the deeply forked tail of 



UNDER THE EAVES 61 

the bird. Its back and wings and tail were 
steel blue. Its throat and chest were bright 
chestnut, becoming paler near the back of the 
body. 

" Oh, I know you," laughed Phyllis. " I 
have no fear of frightening you, for you are a 
swallow. 

" How does it happen that you are so fear- 
less? You are scarcely more afraid of us than 
our chickens. Why do you build so near our 
homes? You are even more tame than the 
robin! " 

The swallow twittered in a way which made 
Phyllis feel that he was laughing at her. He 
darted so near that had she been quick enough 
she might have caught him. 

11 We are not afraid of you! " laughed the 
swallow, darting close again and then whirl- 
ing away. 



62 THE SWALLOW 



U 



What a funny bird! " said Phyllis. 

In a moment the bird was back with a bit of 
mud in his mouth. He plastered it up against 
the rest of the mud under the eaves. Then he 
flew again near Phyllis. 

" I suppose there was a time," said the bird, 
" when all swallows built their nests on the 
sides and ledges of caves or cliffs. But that 
was hundreds of years ago, before men came 
and made barns with such comfortable places 
for building. 

" To be sure there are swallows to this day 
who prefer the bank of a brook or the side of 
a cave for their nesting-place. But we barn 
sw r allows like the eaves best." 

" You, too, are an early bird," said Phyllis. 
" Where did you spend the winter? " 

There was a great twittering among the 
returning swallows just then and Phyllis was 



UNDER THE EAVES 63 

obliged to wait for a reply. Back came the 
bird after a moment. 

" We went south last October," he said. 
" Late in September we gathered in great 
flocks in the marshes. 

" For days we stayed there waiting for the 
entire company to gather. At length on one 
of the blue October days we flew southward. 

" There were hundreds of birds in the flock. 
We looked like a small cloud, as we skimmed 
and darted through the air. As we flew, the 
flock was a half mile long. 

" We spent the winter in South America. 
There are delicious insects there. But for all 
that we love the north country best. 

" By and bye Mother Nature whispered to 
us. She said that it was nest-building time 
in the northland. Such a twittering and flut- 
tering there was when this news came. 



64 THE SWALLOW 

" That very afternoon we started north. 
Day after day we flew. We met other great 
flocks as we travelled, who joined us. 

" Day after day we flew northward. We 
did not stop to eat, but caught our food on 
the wing. 

" Now we lunched on moths and flies. 
Again we dined on grasshoppers. Any insect 
foolish enough to trust itself in the air at the 
time we passed served as food. 

" We arrived here only a few days ago. It 
is not yet very warm, but here under the eaves 
on the sunny side of the barn it is quite com- 
fortable. 

" We are so busy with this nest-building 
and settling for the summer. You see we swal- 
lows do not live alone. There are always 
flocks of us together. 

" We should be lonely if we lived only in 




No robin or 
chickadee 
could build such nests 
as the swallow ' " 



UNDER THE EAVES 65 

pairs. That is the reason that we build 
a whole little village of nests under your 
eaves." 

" You build very queer nests/ ' said Phyl- 
lis. " They are neither like the robin 's nor 
the chickadee's nests. " 

" No, indeed, no robin or chickadee could 
build such nests as the swallow. You see we 
make the soft mud from the brookside into 
little balls and carry it in our bills. With it 
we mix straws and grasses. This holds the 
clay together. When the outer clay wall is 
finished we line the nest with soft grasses and 
feathers. 

" I notice there are a great many chicken 
feathers in the barnyard. I shall line my nest 
with the softest, fluffiest feathers that I can 
find there. 

" By and bye my little mate will sit in the 



66 THE SWALLOW 

dear clay nest and over four or five or pos- 
sibly six little eggs." 

" I shall never be able to see them," sighed 
Phyllis. " They are up so high. Tell me 
about them." 

" Oh, my eggs are beautiful," said the swal- 
low. " They are white with just a little rose 
tint. They are spotted with fine dots of brown 
and purple, and are about three-quarters of 
an inch long. 

" We shall probably have three broods of 
birdlings this summer. What a happy, happy 
time we shall have! " 

All this time the swallow was darting and 
wheeling and circling about Phyllis in a most 
graceful manner. 

" Are you never still? " asked Phyllis, at 
last. " I do not believe you even stop to eat." 

" I do not," said the swallow, darting after 



UNDER THE EAVES 67 

a big blue fly. " I eat on the fly." And then 
he burst into a giggling twitter. 

" I catch nearly all my food on the wing. 
No one can complain — as they do of the robin 
— of our destroying fruit. 

" We do not care for fruit at all. I would 
rather have a dozen nice fat flies than all the 
cherries in the world! " 

" Well," laughed Phyllis, "I'd rather have 
a dozen ripe cherries than all the flies in the 
world! " 

" Tastes differ," twittered the swallow. 



THE SWALLOWS 

Once upon a time some Eskimo children 
were playing in the wet clay by the seashore. 
They were making tiny toy houses of the clay. 
These houses they fastened high on the face 
of the cliff. 

The children chattered and laughed. They 
ran gaily to and fro in their happy play., 

The people of the village heard their merry 
voices. Their busy mother paused with her 
long bone needle between her fingers. She 
looked up and smiled at her little ones. 

" How happy my children are to-day! ' 
she said, and she hummed a little tune to 
herself. 

68 



THE SWALLOWS 69 

" They are very wise children! " said a 
neighbour. " They say so many wonderful 
tilings. Indeed, they seem to know more of 
some things than even the wise men of the 
village! " 

" Yes, they are quite wonderful," said the 
mother. " I sometimes listen to their chatter 
and watch their nimble little fingers, and I 
wonder who taught them all they know." 

" Oh," said another woman, " they do not 
seem so extraordinary to me. In fact, they 
look to me like little birds, flitting about in 
their dark dresses." 

" They do look like birds! " said the mother, 
gazing at the children. 

"I do believe they are birds," said the 
neighbour. 

" But the voices are my children's voices," 
said the mother, looking again in wonder. 



70 THE SWALLOW, 



ii 



' And they are still building tiny clay houses 
on the cliffs! " said the other woman. 

" But those toy clay houses are birds' 
nests/' said the neighbour, " and those little 
figures darting back and forth are no longer 
children. They have changed to birds! " 

" Yes," said the mother, peering from under 
her hand. " Yes, those are birds building 
their funny clay nests on the cliffs yonder. 

" But the birds have the happy twittering 
voices of my children. You were right. They 
were wonderful children! 

" Ah, well, my only wish is that they may 
remain near us. They will cheer us and keep 
us from becoming lonely! " 

" Surely that is a reasonable wish — since 
they are your own little ones/' said the neigh- 
bour. " I, too, hope that the little birds will 
remain near our village! " 



THE SWALLOWS 71 

And indeed the mother's wish was granted. 
Even to this day the little swallows do not 
fear man. 

In fact, they still choose to build their nests 
near the camps of the people. They still fix 
their tiny toy houses on the faces of the sea 
cliffs. 



ALL ABOUT THE BAEN SWALLOW 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Comes north about first or second week in 
April. Remains until late September or Octo- 
ber — builds and travels in flocks or compan- 
ies — winters in South or Central America. 

Song — a constant twitter. 

Head and upper parts except forehead steel 
blue — tail feathers marked with white — 
forehead and throat clear chestnut colour — 
chest and lower body paler chestnut. 

Food — chiefly insects caught while on the 
wing. 

Nest — built chiefly of mud — chooses under 
eaves or cavelike places for building — mud 

72 






ALL ABOUT THE BAKN SWALLOW 73 

mixed with grasses and (one authority also 
asserts) a sticky saliva from the bird's mouth. 
Eggs — white, tinted a delicate rose, and 
speckled finely with brown and purple. — 
Two or three broods in a season. 



THE HAWK AND THE 
RAVEN 



THE HAWK AND 
THE RAVEN 

FROM THE BARNYARD PENCE 

Had not the old hen been such a watchful 
mother she would never have been able to care 
for such a big, fluffy family. 

Had not Phyllis been such a wide-awake 
little girl, she would have never heard and seen 
all that I am about to tell you. 

Mother Speckle was scratching patiently in 
the barnyard. Now and again she gave a loud 
call and her ten little ones ran wildly for the 
bug or worm w T hich their mother had found 
for them. 

77 



78 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

Phyllis was just coming into the barnyard 
with a cup of meal for Mother Speckle's 
family, when a strange cry from the old hen 
startled her. 

Phyllis looked and saw every chick running 
as fast as its little legs could carry it to the 
hovering mother wings. Soon every chicken 
baby was hidden from sight and the chicken 
mother was clucking less loudly. 

" What can be the matter? " cried Phyllis, 
and then looking up she saw a hawk circling 
in the air above. 

She snatched off her hat and waved it wildly 
at the hawk. At the same time she shouted as 
fiercely as she could. 

The hawk soared calmly in the air, rising 
ever higher and higher. The mother hen, call- 
ing softly to her babies, led the little ones to 
the protecting shelter of some low bushes. 



FROM THE BARNYARD FENCE 79 

Then Phyllis sprinkled the meal and soon the 
chicken hawk was quite forgotten by Mother 
Speckle and her brood. 

But Phyllis still w r atched eagerly for the 
hawk. She feared that he would return. But 
she could now see nothing of him. 

On the fence post, not far away, sat a 
big black raven croaking gravely to him- 
self. 

" You are not a lovely bird either/ ' said 
the little girl, but the raven did not hear 
her. 

When she had crept up very close to the 
post on which the raven sat, Phyllis again 
saw the hawk sailing in wide circles nearer 
and nearer. 

" Caw! Caw! " cried the raven, rising in 
the air, high above the barn. " I, too, can sail 
about in circles! Caw r ! Caw! Caw! " 



80 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

The hawk said nothing, but quietly settled 
on the fence post. The raven still circled in 
the air, but ever nearer. 

The hawk looked up. The raven wagged his 
head solemnly and uttered his sad, harsh cry. 
He shook out his black feathers and sat down 
again on the post. 

" I am called the bird of ill omen/' said the 
raven. " Some people think that I bring bad 
luck. Others think I eat too much of their 
corn. No one likes me. No one thinks me 
beautiful. 

" Yet if you will look at my black coat you 
will see how glossy it is. My back fairly 
gleams in the sunlight. Sometimes I catch 
gleams of purple and green on my wings. See 
how soft and loose are the feathers about my 
throat. They make a fringe about my neck 
of which I am somewhat proud. 



FROM THE BARNYARD FENCE 81 

" I do not harm people, and I surely should 
not be blamed for my appetite. To be sure, 
I do eat corn and grain. I also eat grubs, 
worms, field mice, in fact anything which 
comes in my way. 

" I have a home up in the top of the cedar- 
tree. My nest is round and firm. It is 
woven of sticks and grasses and lined with 
wool which I myself pick from the sheep's 
back. 

" We reline the old nest and repair it beau- 
tifully every housecleaning time. 

" My babies are good children, but they do 
not in fact look much like me. Perhaps you 
might think them better looking than their 
parents. They are black and white. 

" Their mother says that the raven babies 
will outgrow the white feathers soon. She 
declares that she and I had once as many 



82 THE HAWK AND THE EAVEN 

white feathers as our babies. It seems hard 
to believe, but perhaps she is right. 

" At any rate, they are my children and I 
do the best I can for them. To me they are 
very dear, but I fear they will go through life 
as unloved as I! Caw! Caw! Caw! " 

The chicken-hawk ruffled his brown feathers 
carelessly. He drew in his breath, making a 
whistling noise which to Phyllis, hiding so 
quietly below, sounded quite like escaping 
steam. 

" People do not like me either," said the 
hawk, shrugging his shoulders. " But for all 
that I shall not sit and mourn. 

" I know that my feathers are handsome. I 
know that I am a good husband and father. 
I know that I can sail about in the air as grace- 
fully as any bird in the world. 

" I sometimes eat insects, but I wonder, Mr. 



FROM THE BARNYARD PENCE 83 

Raven, at your fondness for corn and grain. 
You should try some of these small birds 
which arc flying about/' 

" I fear — " began the raven. 

" Fear f " cried the hawk, striking out with 
his strong curved claws. " I do not know 
what fear is! Look at my short curved bill! 
Look at my sharp claws! Look at my long 
wings, which can carry me so swiftly and so 
far! 

" There is scarcely a bird of the air which 
does not fear me. They skim out of sight at 
my approach. 

" You should see me pounce upon young 
ducks. It is great fun. Yesterday I was soar- 
ing above the pond, when I saw a whole 
family of young ducks out for their first swim. 
Without a sound I dropped down, seized one, 
and bore it off in my claws. I sat in the tree- 



84 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

top to eat it. It was very tender, but also very 
small. I decided to have another. This time 
the young ducks saw me. They dived head 
first into the water. 

" I laughed to myself. I knew that they 
would soon come up. When in half a minute 
one appeared, I was quick enough to catch 
him. 

" Later I carried a small chicken home to 
my nest in the big oak on the hill yonder. 
My nest is a very simple affair, — just a few 
crooked sticks. The lining is of leaves and 
a few pieces of loose bark which we picked 
up. 

" Come and see me sometime, Mr. Raven. I 
will show my babies to you. They are wonder- 
ful birdlings with bright yellow eyes and blu- 
ish bills. 

" Just now I must be off. I see Mrs. Speckle 



FROM THE BARNYARD FENCE 85 

has ventured out from the bushes again and 
that little girl with the flapping hat — ' f 

The little girl and the " flapping hat " 
sprang up from the fence-corner with such a 
shout that the chicken-hawk circled away into 
the air and did not return that day. 

The raven flew away, crying sadly, " Caw! 
Caw! Caw! ' Mother Speckle went on 
quietly catching bugs for her downy babies 



THE FIKST HAWK 

During the short Greenland summer the 
Eskimos live along the seacoast. They put 
up their strange skin huts and hunt and fish 
and make merry through the season when the 
sun shines at midnight 

Now in places along the Greenland coast 
there are steep high cliffs. Here the birds 
which fly farther north in summer make their 
nests. 

Often, as the Eskimo sits by his campfire, 
he hears the half -angry, half -sad cry of " Kea! 
Kea! Kea! " Looking up then, he often sees 
a lonely hawk sitting on the highest, most 
desolate cliff. 

The Eskimo father laughs when he hears 

86 



THE FIRST HAWK 87 

this cry and sees the lonely bird on the cliff 
top. Then the little Eskimo children creep 
nearer to their father with certainty that a 
new story is in store for them. 

" Tell us the story of the hawk! " the Es- 
kimo children cry eagerly. 

This then is the story which the Eskimo 
father tells to his little ones " in their funny 
furry clothes.' ' 

" Long, long ago in a tiny Eskimo village, 
there lived a strange-looking old woman. Her 
neck was so short that she really looked as 
though she had no neck at all and as though 
her head was set upon her shoulders. 

" People laughed when they saw the funny- 
looking old woman. Some were so unkind as 
to make fun of her strange appearance. 

" This unkindness made the old woman 
very unhappy. 



88 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 



Li 



By and bye the children of the village 
went every day to the hut of the old woman to 
play. 

" They teased and tormented her. If she 
raised the bearskin curtain at the doorway and 
spoke to them they did not heed her. 

" ' Short neck! Short neck! ' the rude chil- 
dren shouted. Then they stood and laughed 
at her. 

" So it came that the poor old woman grew 
more and more unhappy. To escape her tor- 
mentors she often climbed to the cliff tops and 
sat on the edges of high rocks where it was 
difficult to follow. 

" Here, safe and quiet, she would sit for 
hours. Sometimes in her loneliness she raised 
her arms above her head and cried aloud. 

" The people of the tiny Eskimo village 
often saw the lonely figure on the cliffs. They 



THE FIRST HAWK 89 

noticed that the old woman staved less and 
less in her little snow hut in the village. 

" Then one morning an Eskimo child, look- 
ing up, thought she saw the old woman sitting 
as usual on the rocks. But the child's brother 
said that he saw only a strange bird with a 
very short neck. 

" At that moment the bird raised its wings 
and flapped them above its head. 

" * Kea! Kea! Kea! ' cried the strange new 
bird. * Kea! Kea! Kea! who was it called me 
short neck? ' 

" ' Ah,' said the children's father, looking 
up from his fishing-nets, ' I think you both 
were right.' " 



ORIGIN OF THE RAVEN AND THE 
MACAW 

(ZUNI CREATION MYTH) 

Long, long ago there were but few Indians 
on the earth. The world was not as it is now. 
The earth people did not understand things as 
they now understand them. 

It therefore happened that a beautiful 
Indian prince came to live with the earth 
people. 

In his hand he carried a plume stick. It 
was a magic wand and was covered with 
feathers of beautiful colours. 

There were yellow feathers. There were 
red feathers. There were blue-green feath- 

90 



ORIGIN OF THE RAVEN 91 

ers. There were black and white and gray 
feathers. 

Fastened to this magic wand were also 
many strange shells and charms which the 
earth children did not understand and which 
the strange prince did not explain fully. 

" What is this strange plume stick? " 
asked the earth children. 

"It is the magic wand which tests the 
hearts of earth children/ ' was the reply. 

The earth children wondered, but they did 
not understand. 

" Ah, but show us what you mean! " they 
cried, eagerly. 

" Look! " replied the strange prince. 

Then amid the plumes and charms of 
the magic wand there appeared four round 
things. 

" They are eggs! " cried the earth children. 



92 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

" Two are blue like the sky. Two are red- 
brown like the dust of our own pleasant 
earth! " 

Then the earth children asked many ques- 
tions which the strange prince tried patiently 
to explain. 

" Now," said the strange prince, " choose 
whichever eggs you will. By and bye they will 
hatch. From them will come birds such as you 
never before have seen. From each pair of 
eggs will come a pair of birds." 

" You who choose the blue eggs shall fol- 
low the birds which come from the blue shells. 
You and your children and your children's 
children shall dwell in the land in which these 
birds nest. 

" You who choose the red-brown eggs shall 
follow the birds which come from the red- 
brown shells. You and your children and your 



ORIGIN OF THE RAVEN 93 

children's children shall dwell in the land in 
which these birds nest! " 

" But which shall we choose? " cried the 
eager earth children. 

" Nay," said the strange prince, " that I 
may not tell. But this much you may know: 

" From one pair of eggs shall come forth 
beautiful birds. Their feathers shall be col- 
oured, like the leaves and fruits of summer. 
They shall nest in the land of everlasting 
summer-time and plenty. 

" They who choose those eggs will follow 
these birds to the beautiful country of sum- 
mer-time. The fruits will ripen daily and fall 
into the hands of the lucky earth children. 
Their food will come to them without labour 
and they shall know neither hunger nor cold." 

" And what will happen if we choose the 
other pair of eggs? " 



94 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

The strange prince shook his head half 
sadly and smiled on the earth children. 

" From the other pair of eggs," he said, 
" shall come forth birds with black feathers, 
piebald with white. This pair will nest in 
a land where you may gain food by labour 
only. 

" Those who follow this pair of birds shall 
struggle summer and winter. By long days of 
toil they shall provide food. By long nights 
of watchfulness they shall keep warmth 
within their homes." 

Then the strange prince ceased speaking. 
The earth children looked at each other and 
forgot to speak. Each looked into the eyes of 
the other and asked a question. Each wished 
to follow the birds which would lead them to 
the land of everlasting summer-time and idle- 
ness and plenty. 



ORIGIN OF THE RAVEN 95 

" Which eggs do you choose ? " asked the 
strange prince, 

" The blue — the blue! " cried the earth 
children. Then those who were strongest and 
quickest pushed forward. 

They fought for the blue eggs, and getting 
them hurried away with gladness. 

They buried the blue eggs in the soft loam 
on the sunny side of the cliff. They sat down 
to watch when the young birds should hatch. 

Now there remained those weaker earth 
children who had been pushed aside. For 
them there was no choice. The strange 
prince gave into their hand the red-brown 
eggs. 

The red-brown eggs were placed amid the 
soft green grasses by the riverside. The earth 
children into whose care they were given sat 
also by the riverside and waited. 



96 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

Sometimes, as they waited for the hatching 
of the red-brown eggs, they looked up to the 
place in the cliff where the stronger ones 
watched the beautiful blue eggs. 

Then the weaker ones sighed and turned 
to the ugly red-brown eggs amid the grasses. 

By and bye, as those on the cliff waited, they 
heard faint tappings inside the blue shells. 

" Ah," they said, " the birds will come soon 
now. They will lead us to the land of summer- 
time." 

When at length the shells burst and the 
young birds came out, they looked much as 
other birds look. They had large mouths and 
panting sides and tiny featherless bodies. 
Soon the pin-feathers appeared. 

" See! " cried the watchers, " now the beau- 
tiful plumage is starting! " 

And those by the riverside, hearing the cry, 



ORIGIN OF THE RAVEN 97 

looked up, and looking up they sighed. The 
red-brown eggs also were cracking open and 
the young birds coming out of the shells. 
Soon the earth children must follow their bird 
leaders. They fed and tended the young birds 
for still a few days. 

Then one morning there were sighs and dis- 
content on the cliff. For the birds which came 
from the blue shells were feathered and ready 
for flight. Their colours were black and 
white! So also is all the bare earth and the 
new-fallen snow! 

It was a pair of ravens, w T hich the stronger 
earth children followed to the country where 
winter follows summer and where men work 
for food. As the earth children laboured, the 
ravens taunted them with hoarse, laughing 
cries. 

Now those other earth children who watched 



98 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

the red-brown eggs stood up by the riverside 
and smiled. 

From the red-brown eggs had come birds of 
gorgeous plumage. On the breath of a sweet- 
scented breeze they were wafted far to south- 
ward — to the summer land. And those earth 
children who followed the beautiful birds still 
live easily in the land of everlasting summer- 
time. 



ALL ABOUT THE CHICKEN -HAWK 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Voice — sharp, harsh, discordant cries — 
queer " whistling " noises. 

Upper parts brownish black mixed with 
white — throat and under tail coverts white — 
other under parts having darker markings. 

Bill — short, curved, and very sharp. 

Claws — strong, curved, and very sharp, — 
middle toe longest. 

Wings — long and pointed — made for 
rapid flight and long journeys. 

Female larger than male. 

Food — other smaller birds of the air — 
small ducks and r-hk-kens — occasionally 
larger insects, snakes, etc 

90 



100 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

Nest in the fork of a tree — made of 
crooked sticks and lined with leaves, bark, etc. 

Eggs — two to four in number, bluish white, 
thickly speckled with brown. 

Iris in young bird's eyes yellow — turning 
to reddish brown with maturity. 



ALL ABOUT THE RAVEN 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Three times the size of robin. 

Does not migrate, but is usually resident in 
the place where it can best provide for itself 
and family. 

Is glossy black in colour, with gleams of 
purple and green above — duller underneath. 

Flies in wide circles high above the tree- 
tops, and utters a weird, uncanny cry, which 
has given it the name of being a bird of ill 
omen, and to many people the cry of the raven 
is deemed a sign of approaching evil. 

Nest very compactly built of sticks and 
grasses and lined with wool from sheep's 

101 



102 THE HAWK AND THE RAVEN 

back. Nest is used year after year, being 
often relined and made habitable. 

Young when first hatched are black and 
white — they however change to entire black 
in a very short time. 

Food of the raven is varied, apparently any- 
thing edible which comes in his way — grain, 
seeds, grubs, worms, field-mice, fruit, are 
found on his menu. 



THE KINGFISHER 
OR HALCYON BIRD 



103 



THE KINGFISHER 

OR HALCYON BIRD 

WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN 

" Please, Jack," begged Phyllis. 

" Girls always talk," replied Jack. 

" I will not say a word to you — indeed I 
will not." 

" Well, if you spoil my fishing — " began 
Jack. 

" And I'll pick thimbleberries for our 
lunch," said Phyllis, eagerly. 

So it happened that a small girl in a great 
sunbonnet followed a small boy with a still 
larger straw hat and a fishing-pole and line, 
out of the back gate and down the lane. 

105 



106 THE KINGFISHER 

True to her promise, Phyllis said nothing, 
but trudged along behind Jack with wide 
open, watchful brown eyes. 

By and bye the children came to a pond of 
shining, clear water. How still everything 
seemed, how brightly the sun shone! 

" Now if you talk you 11 scare the fish," said 
Jack, with an air of great importance. 

" I will not talk," Phyllis whispered 
back, shutting her lips very tightly and sit- 
ting down beside her brother with a little 
sigh. 

Jack threw his line — Phyllis watched with 
awe. They sat for a moment waiting for a 
" bite." 

Then Jack jerked the line up sharply, not 
so much because he thought he had caught 
something, as because he hoped he would 
catch something. 




On a branch sat a 
bird. He was 
considerably larger 
than a robin " 



WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN 107 



H 



" I don't believe there are any fish here, 
he grumbled at last. 

But Phyllis 's bright eyes had caught sight 
of something and she forgot all about the fish- 
ing and her resolve not to speak. 

" Look! ' she cried, pointing to a fallen 
tree-trunk which hung over the water. 

On a branch sat a bird. He was considerably 
larger than a robin. 

On the top of his head was a tall crest, which 
reached to the nape of his neck, 

His back and the entire upper part of his 
body was blue. His wings and short tail bore 
spots and bars of white. 

The lower part of his body was white and 
across his breast ran two bands of blue. 

" His bill is longer than his head! " laughed 
Phyllis. " What a funny big head and what 
funny little feet! Who is he, Jackie? " 



108 THE KINGFISHER 

" A kingfisher! " Jack replied. 

" What is he doing? " asked Phyllis. 

" Fishing," said Jack, shortly. 

In a moment Jack spoke again. 

" There must be fish here if Mr. King- 
fisher is on the lookout. He is a famous old 
fisherman. He could not live without fish to 
eat. Did you notice the white spot above each 
eye? " 

Encouraged by the sight of the other fisher- 
man, Jack again cast his line and waited for 
a bite. 

Phyllis watched the bird. Suddenly it 
seemed to drop from the branch. It dived into 
the water. 

There was a great flutter and splash — 
a struggle. Then the bird in the blue 
and white uniform perched again on the old 
branch. 



WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN 109 

The children watched eagerly. 

In the bird's strong bill was a scaly, glitter- 
ing fish. It wriggled and flopped helplessly, 
but could not escape. 

The bird held the fish firmly in its strong 
grasp, raised his head and struck the fish three 
or four sharp knocks against the branch. 
Then the fish wriggled no longer. 

" He can never swallow that big fellow! " 
cried Jack, forgetting his own fishing. " I 
have seen kingfishers swallow minnows alive 
and whole, but that fish is too large for him 
to manage! " 

The bird, however, seemed to think that he 
could " manage " it. He started to swallow 
the fish. When it was half-way down his 
throat it stuck. 

With much sputtering and gagging the bird 
brought the fish up again. But he must have 



110 THE KINGFISHER 

his dinner, and not in the least discouraged, 
tried again. 

He gagged and writhed. The scales and fins 
stuck in his throat. Up came the fish again. 

Four — five times he struggled to swallow 
the fish. Five times he failed to succeed. Five 
times the fish-scales glittered again in the sun- 
light. Such strange wrigglings and twistings 
the bird made. 

" The poor fellow is having an unhappy time 
with his lunch/ ' laughed the children. 

At the sixth effort the fish was safely landed 
in the bird's stomach. 

With a flash of blue wings he circled 
through the air. He gave a noisy rattling cry 
as he alighted on a branch nearer to the chil- 
dren. 

Again the bird watched the water intently. 
Again he dived like a flash. Again he bore a 



WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN HI 

fish to the surface and killed it by striking it 
against the tree. 

But this time the kingfisher did not swallow 
the fish. He rose with it in his bill and flew 
gracefully away. 

The children watched for some time, but the 
strange blue bird did not return. Then Jack 
turned again to his fishing. 

" I thought you were to furnish the thimble- 
berries for lunch/' he said. 

" So I shall/' Phyllis replied, snatching up 
her basket and starting off in the direction of 
some bushes which she could see. 

So Jack was left to his fishing and Phyllis 
went berrying. 

Sure enough the bushes proved to be loaded 
with beautiful ripe berries. Soon the little 
fingers were stained quite purple and the little 
basket was half filled with berries. 



112 THE KINGFISHER 

As she started to return to her brother, 
Phyllis passed along the foot of a high bank. 
She was singing softly to herself when she 
heard the rattling cry of the kingfisher quite 
near. 

He gracefully swung into sight on wide- 
spread wings. He bore another fish in his 
strong bill. 

When he saw Phyllis he stopped short and 
held himself perfectly still in the air while he 
looked at her. 

At length, deciding that she was harmless, 
he circled past the little girl and entered a 
small hole on the face of the bank. 

" Why! " said Phyllis. " I wonder why he 
has gone in there. I shall wait for him to re- 
turn/ ' 

So Phyllis waited until the bird came out. 
Then she held out her basket of berries. 



WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN 113 



ii 



L Will you have some of rny berries'? " she 
said. " I'm sure that your throat must be sore 
from the scratching of those fish-scales. You 
had to try so many times before you got it 
down. Tell me, did this last fish also stick in 
your throat? " 

The kingfisher " chuckled " deep down in 
his throat. 

" I do not eat berries/' he said. " I usually 
eat fish. I sometimes eat large insects or 
shrimps, but I love to fish." 

" So does my brother," said Phyllis, po- 
litely, glancing at Jack sitting motionless on 
a rock in the sunshine. 

" Why did you go into that hole to eat? " 

The kingfisher chuckled again. 

" That is my nest," he said. " My wife 
is in there. I took the fish to her. She 
can fish quite as well as I, but our eggs 



114 THE KINGFISHER 

are just hatching and she dare not leave 
them." 

" That a bird's nest? " cried Phyllis. 
" Who made it? " 

" Mrs. Kingfisher and I did," was the reply. 
" We found this fine steep bank when we came 
from the south in March. 

" I began the nest myself. I held myself 
still in the air before the bank just as I did 
when I first noticed you. Then I drove my 
beak into the soft bank with quick plunges. 
How the clay rattled and rolled and splashed 
into the water below! 

" It was but a very short time before I had 
a foothold on the bank. Mrs. Kingfisher and 
I worked very quickly. Soon we dug our- 
selves out of sight." 

" But how do you dig — " 
Oh, just look at my bill, Phyllis. With it 



a 



WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN 115 

I loosen the earth. With my feet I scratch the 
dirt out in a perfect shower behind me. Our 
tunnel is so narrow that we could not turn 
around in it." 

" How deep is it? " asked the little girl, 
pushing back her big hat and peering in. 

The kingfisher did not seem to hear her. 
He just went on with his story. 

" Perhaps a little less than two feet from 
the outside we made a turn to the right. After 
that we were obliged to bring the earth out 
in our beaks. 

" Two could not work at once. While I 
worked at the tunnel Mrs. Kingfisher fished. 
While she worked, I fished. At last the tunnel 
was eight feet long. 

" ' That is a very safe distance/ said Mrs. 
Kingfisher to me. i Let us dig no more, but 
make our nest here at the end of the tunnel.' 



116 THE KINGFISHER 

" We built a wonderful nest," the bird went 
on, " a fine prickly nest for our little ones. 
We did not line it with feathers and moss. 
We carefully arranged a pile of fish-bones and 
scales at the farthest end of the tunnel. On 
these bones and scales my wife laid six white 
eggs. Already four little baby kingfishers 
have pecked their way out of the white shells. 
The others will be out soon. 

" I must be off about my fishing. Mrs. 
Kingfisher and I will both be very busy now 
catching minnows for those blue babies of 
ours." 

With another chuckle and rattle the king- 
fisher flew away to his fishing station over 
the pond. 

Phyllis picked up her basket of berries and 
returned to the spot where Jack still sat pa- 
tiently holding his pole. 



WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN 117 

" Oh, Jack- " Phyllis began. 

' ' Sh-h-h-h ! ' ' whispered Jack. ' ' You 
promised not to talk. You'll scare the fish 
away. Girls always talk." 

"I'm sorry," said Phyllis. " How many 
have you now? " 

" None — but I've had a nibble several 
times. I think they'd bite better if the sun 
would go under a cloud." 

" Let's eat our lunch now," begged Phyllis. 
" Perhaps there'll be some clouds by the time 
we finish." 

As they ate Phyllis told her brother about 
the kingfisher's nest and babies. When they 
finished the sky was as blue as ever. 

" These are halcyon days," said Jack, look- 
ing very wise. 

" Wh-a-a-t — ! " said Phyllis, wholly puz- 
zled and half frightened at the new word. 



118 THE KINGFISHER 

" Well, you see father told me about them 
the other day when we were fishing in this 
same place. 

" It seems that long ago when people were 
not very wise, they believed all sorts of queer 
things. They told strange stories about the 
things which they did not understand. 

" In those days kingfishers were called 
halcyons. Some said these birds made nests 
which floated on the sea. 

" As long as these eggs or birdlings were in 
the nest, the people said, the sea would re- 
main smooth and the weather fair. 

" Ever since then, when we hear any one 
speak of ' halcyon days/ we know that they 
mean pleasant happy days." 

" Then," laughed Phyllis, " this has been 
one of the ' halcyon days ' even though you 
failed to catch any fish." 



WITH THE WATER WATCHMAN 119 

Then two tired little people trudged home 
through the river reeds and down the lane. 

On their way the blue kingfisher flashed by, 
chuckling harshly deep down in his throat. 



THE HALCYON BIRDS 

That evening Phyllis opened a new book 
and on almost the first page she saw something 
about the halcyon birds. 

" Perhaps it is Jack's story/ ' she said. 
Then she curled herself up on the soft sofa 
and this is the story she read. 

In the beautiful long ago, in the won- 
derful country of Greece there lived a king, 
wise and just and peaceful. His people loved 
him. 

The king lived in a marble palace on the top 
of a low hill. With him lived his wife, the 
lovely Queen Halcyone. 

But though the king was wise and just and 

120 



THE HALCYON BIRDS 121 

good, his heart was sad. There was unrest in 
the land. Troubles were rife in Greece. 

At length one day the king came to the room 
where Queen Halcyone sat with her maids. 
They were spinning carefully and happily to- 
gether. 

" My Halcyone — my queen/' said the king, 
" as you know, I am greatly troubled and dis- 
turbed. I do not know what is the best thing 
for me to do. I must seek wise advice from 
the gods." 

Queen Halcyone dropped her distaff and 
looked in fear at the king. 

" I must go," said the king to Halcyone, 
" on a long journey across the seas. As you 
know, in the Temple of Apollo there is a wise 
oracle. To this oracle must I go in search of 
counsel." 

Then the lovely Queen Halcyone 's heart was 



122 THE KINGFISHER 

filled with sorrow. She feared that harm 
might come to the king, whom she loved for 
his goodness and his kindness. 

Haley one fell on her knees before the king. 
She begged him to postpone this terrible jour- 
ney across the seas. 

" Indeed," cried she, " there are cruel 
dangers, my king! The journey is long and 
wearisome. Remain at home with me! " 

The king smiled pityingly upon his lovely 
queen. He kissed her gently before he an- 
swered. 

" It seems to me," he said, sadly, " that 
there is no other way. I must go." 

" Ah, then, I pray, take me also. Let me 
share the dangers and the weariness." 

" You could not — " the king began. 

" In truth it would be easier far than to 
bear the loneliness and dread when you are 



THE HALCYON BIRDS 123 

gone. It would be weary waiting for your 
return! " 

Now the king loved Halcyone. He longed 
to remain at home with her. But already the 
boat lay ready for departure — and there was 
no place for Halcyone. 

Already the oarsmen sat at their benches 
ready to row away. So the king bade Halcy- 
one farewell and stepped on board and quickly 
pushed off. 

With bitter tears Halcyone stood on the 
bank and watched the king's boat push out 
from shore. 

When it looked but a speck she shaded her 
eyes with her hand and still watched. But 
when in the purple distance the tiny speck 
could no longer be seen, Halcyone turned 
with a sigh to the marble palace and her 
maidens. 



124 THE KINGFISHEK 

On and on across the waters the little boat 
sped. For a time all went well. At night the 
stars shone. In the morning the sun arose 
from the blue waters and travelled across a 
cloudless sky. Gentle winds blew, filling the 
sails and pushing the little boat quietly on its 
way. 

But one day a change came over the sea. 
The moaning of the wind was heard. Dark 
clouds scurried across the sky. 

The waves rose high and broke in white 
crests of foam. The rain poured down. The 
wind crept up and sprang upon the little boat 
with fury. 

For a time the boat rose and fell with the 
waves. It pitched and rolled and reeled. 
Great waves splashed over it, washing the 
oarsmen overboard. 

The masts were torn away. At last the 



THE HALCYOX BIRDS 125 

little boat, buried in the trough of the wave, 
sank beneath the water. 

The king and all his crew lay buried deep 
beneath the deep blue sea. 

Weeks passed. Months passed. A year 
went by. 

Queen Halcyone wandered restlessly up and 
down the shore. With weary eyes she watched 
the purple distance. But the king did not 
return. 

She prayed to the gods that they would 
guard and protect the king whom she loved 
so dearly. She went to the sacred altars of 
her country, and burned incense there. 

When the goddess Juno heard the prayers 
and saw the tears of the lovely Queen Hal- 
cyone, she was sad for her. Juno called to 
her side the beautiful rainbow messenger, 
Tris. 



126 THE KINGFISHER 

" Iris," said Juno, " this night I wish you 
to go down on your rainbow bridge to the god 
of dreams. 

" Ask him to send to Haley one a dream 
which shall tell her of the fate of her husband, 
the king. It is better that she should know 
what has befallen him whom she loved than 
to wander thus in uncertainty." 

So Iris, the beautiful messenger, swept 
down to the god of dreams — and that night 
Halcyone dreamed that the king came to her 
and told her his story. He told her how the 
boat and all therein had long since been 
buried under the sea. 

" Be brave, my Halcyone," said the shade 
of the dead king. " Be brave and patient, and 
soon perchance, if the gods will, thou shalt 
come to me in the land of shades." 

When the dream left her, Halcyone sprang 



THE HALCYON BIRDS 127 

from her couch and ran again to the seashore. 
She stretched out her arms and called aloud 
to iEolus, the father of the winds. 

" O great father ^Eolus," she prayed, " give 
me wings so large and strong that they will 
carry me to the spot where the king now lies. 

" Hear me, iEolus! Hear Haley one, thy 
child! " 

And as she prayed, lo, she rose slowly into 
the air. The folds of her blue robe enwrapped 
her. 

Halcyone floated out across the sea. Again 
and again her breast touched the white crest 
of the waves and left its foam on her throat 
and on the bosom of her dress. 

On and on she sped across the billowy 
waters. Her wings were firm, strong, untir- 
ing. 

At last, floating upon the water she spied the 



128 THE KINGFISHEB 

form of the king. With a hoarse rattling in 
her throat she called to him. 

With her strong wings outspread, Halcyone 
hung motionless above the king. Those 
broken cries came again and again from her 
throat. 

And Juno, looking down from her cloudland 
home, saw Halcyone kneeling on the waves 
beside the dead king. She leaned down from 
her place in the heavens and touched the 
king's forehead. 

Lo! there rose from the water two strong- 
winged birds in dresses of blue and white. 

" Ah," sighed iEolus, " let us call them the 
halcyon birds, for the lovely Halcyone, whose 
love did not fail her. 

" Let these birds live ever beside the waters 
and rear their young in peace and quiet. 

" Behold, when Halcyone broods over her 



\ 



THE HALCYON BIRDS 129 

little ones I will hold my winds in check. The 
waters shall be quiet and the sun shall shine 
merrily. 

" And these days of peace and quiet and 
happiness shall be called ' halcyon days/ for 
ever." 



ALL ABOUT THE KINGFISHER 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Comes north in early March — remains 
until December, often throughout the year. 

Song — harsh, discordant, laughing chuckle 
or rattle — never musical. 

Upper parts blue — wings and tail with 
white markings — lower parts white with two 
blue bands across breast — bluish tinge on 
sides — a white spot in front of each eye. — 
Head large and crested — bill longer than 
head — feet small. 

Food — principally fish which it obtains by 
diving and kills by striking against a tree if 
large, or swallows alive if small. — This food 
supplemented by larger insects, shrimps, etc. 

130 



ALL ABOUT THE KINGFISHER 131 

Nest — tunnelled out of bank — six to eight 
feet deep — at the extreme end of tunnel is 
the nest made of fish-bones and scales. 

Eggs — pure white — four to six in one 
brood. 



THE RED-HEADED 
WOODPECKER 



133 



THE RED-HEADED 
WOODPECKER 

IN CAP OF RED 

Phyllis sat in her own room, rocking her doll 
to sleep. The window was open and the cur- 
tain flapped idly in the breeze. 

Presently into the room darted a bird. He 
was beautifully dressed. His soft gray uni- 
form was spotted and barred with white. 

He did not seem in the least alarmed when 
he found himself in the room with Phyllis. 
He perched on the window-ledge and did not 
even glance at the little girl. 

In a moment he flew to the ledge above her 

135 



136 THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER 

door. With his strong little bill he began to 
rap, rap, rap at the wood. 

" You act like a woodpecker, but you do 
not look like one," said Phyllis. 

" That shows that you do not know all 
about woodpeckers," said the gray, downy 
bird. " I belong to the family of red-headed 
woodpeckers." 

" You? " cried Phyllis, amazed. " But 
where is your red cap, and where is your white 
vest, and where is your black coat? You are 
trying to fool me, my friend." 

" My father and mother have crimson 
heads and necks and throats. They have white 
breasts. They have black backs and wings 
and tails. When they fly, the broad white 
bands on the wings are quite plain to be seen. 

" My home nest is that in the trunk of the 
old oak by the gate." 



IK CAP OF RED 137 

" It is very queer, ' ' said Phyllis. " Perhaps 
some other bird laid an egg in the wood- 
peckers' nest by mistake." 

The small bird fluttered quite helplessly 
with laughter. 

" Oh, no, Phyllis, I see I have to tell you all 
about it. I am a woodpecker, surely. But 
I am quite young yet. It is not a week since 
I had my first lesson in flying." 

" You fly very well for a young bird," said 
Phyllis. 

" Well, my mother is very wise," said the 
bird. 

" She does not think it well for her 
babies to get out of the nest until they have 
grown quite large. She says that if we wait 
until our wings are strong we will not be so 
apt to fall into danger. 

" So I remained inside the nest until I was 



138 THE KED-HEADED WOODPECKER 

quite a large, strong bird. Then my parents 
called me out and taught me to fly. 

" Only yesterday I asked my mother why 
I did not wear a dress and cap like her 
own. 

" She said, ' Wait a little longer, my child. 
When you are quite grown your cap will be 
as red as my own. You will look so much like 
your father and me that those children down 
there will be unable to tell us apart. ' 

" It is little wonder that you did not know 
me for a woodpecker in this simple gray dress. 
All woodpecker children, however, dress in 
this quiet fashion at first. I shall be happy 
when I get my gorgeous red cap." 

" Well," said Phyllis, " I am very glad you 
came to see me. I knew there was a nest in 
the old oak-tree. I watched your father and 
mother one whole morning a few weeks ago. 



IN CAP OF RED 139 

I think they chose the oak because of those old 
dead branches. 

" I saw your mother brace herself against 
the tree with her stiff tail. Then how her 
wedge-shaped bill rapped and rapped against 
the wood. For fully twenty minutes she 
rapped away at the rotten wood. Then she 
grew tired and your father took her place at 
the tree-trunk. 

" Soon they pecked a hole deep enough to 
hide them from sight, but their constant rap, 
rap, rap could still be heard. 

1 ' I wondered how deep they made the hole, 
but it was too high for me to climb to find 
out." 

" Having just come from the nest I can tell 
you all about it," replied the young wood- 
pecker. " My parents dug down into the soft 
trunk to a depth of perhaps eighteen inches. 



140 THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER 

At the bottom they hollowed out a large 
roomy place for the nest. They did not line it 
with feathers or grasses. Instead of a bed 
of moss was a little sawdust and the smooth 
white sides of the oak. 

" In this nest my mother laid six pure white 
eggs. She sat on them and kept them warm 
until at last six downy birds came out of the 
shells. 

" We were hungry little things. Both our 
mother and father were kept busy filling our 
greedy, ever-open mouths. 

" And whatever they brought was sure 
to be very nice. Sometimes it was a cherry 
or a berry, sometimes a bit of pear or 
apple. 

" But, best of all, were the fat, juicy little 
grubs which they often brought. 

" I asked my father where he got the 



IN CAP OF RED 141 

grubs. He made fun of me and called out to 
my mother in his shrill, lively way. 

" She said that that was a thing which 
every young woodpecker should find out for 
himself. 

" After that, every time a fat grub was 
brought to me, I wondered if I should ever 
be able to find them when I began to shift 
for myself. 

" At last my wings were strong enough and 
my parents called me out of the nest. I very 
soon found that the fat grubs lived beneath 
the bark of my own oak-tree. All I had to 
do was to strike my bill into the bark and 
bear off the prize." 

u Were you sorry to leave your safe high 
nest? " asked Phyllis. 

" Indeed it was not so safe/' said the young 
woodpecker. " On the day that I left the 



142 THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER 

nest a great black snake crept in. He swal- 
lowed my little brothers and sisters. 

" My parents were wild with grief. They 
said that was the thing they always dreaded, 
that such things often happened in wood- 
peckers' nests. " 

" How sad! " said Phyllis. " I should 
never have thought of snakes! " 

" They are our greatest danger/' was the 
reply. " Squirrels sometimes come in and 
steal the nuts and corn we have stored away, 
but the snake is the most to be feared/' 

" So you store away food? " Phyllis asked. 
u Do you stay here in the winter, then? " 

" Oh, yes, we often stay all winter. Have 
you not seen us flying about among the trees 
in the winter-time? " 

By this time the bird sat on the window- 
sill. 



IN CAP OF RED 143 

" Must you go? " asked Phyllis. " Here is 
a strawberry for you." 

" Thanks/' said the bird, pecking away at 
the fruit. " I am just off to the corn-field. 
My father showed me this morning how to 
open the husks of the green corn to get at the 
rich, milky kernels inside." 

" When you get your red cap, come back," 
cried Phyllis, and the young woodpecker's 
lively cry answered from the corn-field. 



A LEGEND OF THE NORTHLAND ' 

Away, away in the Northland, 
Where the hours of the day are few, 

And the nights are so long in winter 
They cannot sleep them through; 

Where they harness the swift reindeer 

To the sledges, when it snows; 
And the children look like bears ' cubs 

In their funny, furry clothes; 

They tell them a curious story — 

I don't believe 'tis true; 
And yet you may learn a lesson 

If I tell the tale to you. 

iUsed by permission of and special arrangement with Houghton, 
Mifflin & Co. 

144 



A LEGEND OF THE NORTHLAND 145 

Once, when the good Saint Peter 

Lived in the world below, 
And walked about it, preaching, 

Just as he did, you know, 

He came to the door of a cottage, 

In travelling round the earth, 
Where a little woman was making cakes 

And baking them on the hearth; 

And being faint with fasting, 

For the dav was almost done, 

%j * 

He asked her from her store of cakes 
To give him a single one. 

So she made a very little cake, 

But as it baking lay, 
She looked at it, and thought it seemed 

Too large to give away. 



146 THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER 

Therefore she kneaded another, 

And still a smaller one, 
But it looked, when she turned it over, 

As large as the first had done. 

Then she took a tiny scrap of dough, 

And rolled and rolled it flat; 
And baked it as thin as a wafer — 

But she couldn't part with that. 

For she said, " My cakes that seem too small, 

When I eat them myself, 
Are yet too large to give away." 

So she put them on the shelf. 

Then the good Saint Peter grew angry, 
For he was hungry and faint; 

And surely such a woman 
Was enough to provoke a saint. 



A LEGEND OE THE NORTHLAND 147 

And he said, " You are far too selfish 

To dwell in a human form, 
To have both food and shelter, 

And fire to keep you warm. 

" Now, you shall build as the birds do, 
And shall get your scanty food 

By boring, and boring, and boring, 
All day in the hard dry wood." 

Then up she went through the chimney, 

Never speaking a word, 
And out of the top flew a woodpecker, 

For she was changed to a bird. 

She had a scarlet cap on her head, 

And that was left the same, 
But all the rest of her clothes were burned 

Black as a coal in the flame. 



148 THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER 

And every country schoolboy - 

Has seen her in the wood; 
Where she lives in the trees till this very day, 

Boring and boring for food. 

And this is the lesson she teaches: 

Live not for yourself alone, 
Lest the needs you will not pity 

Shall one day be your own. 

Give plenty of what is given you, 

Listen to pity's call; 
Don't think the little you give is great, 

And the much you get is small. 

Now, my little boy, remember that, 

And try to be kind and good, 
When you see the woodpecker's sooty dress, 

And see her scarlet hood. 



A LEGEND OF THE XORTHLAXD 149 

You mayn't be changed to a bird, though you 
live 
As sellishlv as you can; 
But you will be changed to a smaller thing — 
A mean and a selfish man. 

— Phoebe Cary. 



ALL ABOUT THE WOODPECKER 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Comes north in May — often stays all 
winter — most commonly seen in the fall. 

Song — shrill, lively call resembling the 
voice of the tree-frog. 

Male and female have crimson head and 
neck — upper parts black with white mark- 
ing — white band across wings — most con- 
spicuous when bird is in flight. 

Lower parts white — bill wedge-shaped, 
strong, and sharp — tail strong and stiff, used 
as a brace when clinging to a tree-trunk and 
tapping with bill — toes arranged two in 
front and two behind for better support in 
clinging to tree trunks, etc. 

150 



ALL ABOUT THE WOODPECKER 151 

Young birds resemble the parents, except 
that in colour they are a mottled gray. 

Food is largely fruit — green corn, nuts, 
and larval insects procured from tree-trunks. 
— Sometimes stores away nuts, etc. 

Place chosen for nest is usually a rotting 
tree, which is easier to bore. — Hollow from 
fifteen to eighteen inches deep. — Eggs pure 
white, generally six in number. 



THE LARK 



153 



THE LARK 

IN THE MEADOW 

If Jack's big black dog, Nero, had not 
chanced to snatch Phyllis 's rag doll by the 
head and run away with it this story would 
have never been written. 

You see, Nero bounded straight across the 
meadow and Phyllis, fearing that she would 
lose the doll, ran shrieking after him. 

Nero was only playing, and soon dropped 
the doll and ran off. Phyllis regained her 
property and started to return, when a bird 
rose from the grass at her feet with a queer 
whirring sound. 



15T) 



156 THE LARK 

Phyllis looked up at the bird and then down 
to the spot from which it had flown. 

In another moment she would have stepped 
in the nest. This meadow lark's nest was 
unlike any other Phyllis had found. In- 
deed, it could scarcely be called a nest at 
all. 

But when she looked at it Phyllis thought 
what a wise little bird the meadow lark must 
be to choose such a place for the nest. 

Had Phyllis not chanced upon it in just the 
way she did she might have looked all day 
long and not discovered it. 

The nest was flat upon the ground. Around 
it and over it arched the tall meadow grasses. 
The nest itself was made of grass — it seemed 
to Phyllis that it was made in a somewhat 
careless manner, and that the eggs might 
easily roll out upon the ground. 



IN THE MEADOW 157 

There were four beautiful oval eggs in the 
nest — the largest birds' eggs Phyllis had 
as yet discovered. They were over an inch 
long, and were of a beautiful rosy white 
colour, speckled closely with reddish brown 
spots. 

As Phyllis sat very still, the mother bird 
crept softly back to her home. She carefully 
settled herself on the grassy nest and with her 
bill tenderly tucked the eggs under her soft 
feathers. 

" How careful you are! " exclaimed Phyllis. 
" No fear of your breaking the eggs." 

The brown bird rose up quickly in fright 
and looked uncertainly toward the fence. 
Phyllis thought to see her whirr off again. 

"Oh, don't go," she cried. "I will 
not harm you! Truly I will not disturb 
you! " 



158 THE LARK 

The meadow lark looked again toward the 
fence, and then settled herself once more over 
her precious eggs. 

" Why do you look toward the fence so 
often? " asked Phyllis. 

" Do you not see that bird perched upon 
the fence? " asked the meadow lark. 

" Yes," Phyllis answered, " what is he 
doing there? " 

" He is our sentinel," said the meadow lark. 
" He is on the lookout for danger. When he 
gives the alarm, the rest of the flock know 
there is danger near. 

" When we hear the sentinel's alarm we are 
off in an instant. We fly high into the air. 
Did you not notice how I hovered near the 
grass-tops for a moment and then rose high 
into the air? " 

" Yes," answered Phyllis, " and I knew that 



IN THE MEADOW 159 

you were a lark because of that whirring sound 
you made when flying." 

" Ah, but I am not really a lark at all," said 
the bird. " I am called the meadow lark, but 
in truth I belong to the blackbird family. The 
red- winged blackbird is an own cousin of mine. 
So also is the oriole, who builds a queer hang- 
ing nest in the tree-tops. 

' ' The oriole is very proud of her woven nest, 
but I should consider it a dangerous place for 
bird babies. My little ones will never be hurt 
by falling from their nest. 

" Neither can I imagine how any bird can 
dare to build in such an open place. 

" My home is hidden here amid the 
grasses. Sometimes we find places like this, 
where the grass blades naturally arch over and 
hide the nest. 

" Sometimes we weave a sort of arch over 



160 THE LAKE! 

the nest with the downy, fine fibres from the 
grass leaves. 

" Did you notice the little lane down which 
I returned to my tiny home? " 

" No," said Phyllis, " I thought you just 
came through the grasses by the easiest 
way." 

" If you will look closely," said the meadow 
lark, pecking away at her own brown feathers, 
" if you look very, very closely, you will see 
the tiny path which leads directly to my 
door." 

Phyllis leaned down and peered very curi- 
ously among the grass stems. Sure enough, 
there was a tiny winding path, almost hidden 
from sight. It led directly to the meadow 
lark's nest. 

" You are a very wonderful little bird," she 
cried. 



IN THE MEADOW 161 

" I shall have some very wonderful babies 
one of these fine days," said the meadow lark, 
proudly. 

11 How safely they will be hidden from 
danger/' said Phyllis. 

" Well," said the mother bird, shaking her 
head, sadly, " I am very sure that I build in a 
safer manner than my cousins. But, alas, even 
meadow larks are not free from danger." 

" I might have stepped on your nest? " said 
Phyllis. 

" Yes," said the bird, " but what makes me 
fear most are the field-mice and the snakes. 
They make great havoc in our nests when they 
discover them. Many a tiny fledgling has been 
-wallowed by a great creeping, crawling 
snake. Many a beautiful egg has been eaten 
by the hungry little field-mice." 

" I hope no harm will come to your little 



162 THE LARK 

home," said Phyllis. " I notice one thing 
which you have for a protection from harm." 

" What is that? " asked the meadow lark. 

" It is your colour." 

The meadow lark raised her head in gentle 
surprise. 

" And what has my colour to do with my 
danger? " she asked. 

" Why," said the little girl, feeling won- 
drous wise, " do you not see that the browns of 
your feathery dress are the same colours as 
the grass stems and the stubble amid which 
you brood and feed? " 

" Why, so it is," said the meadow lark. 
" My back is brown, edged with brownish 
white. That is like the grass stems. I am 
streaked with black and brown and cream 
colours. That is like the blades of grass. 

" My throat and breast are yellow like the 



IN THE MEADOW 163 

stubble amid which I feed. You are wonder- 
fully wise, Miss Phyllis." 

" What a beautiful black crescent you have 
upon your breast," said Phyllis. 4i It was al- 
most the first thing I noticed when I met you. 

" Did you observe the dark brown lines on 
my head ? They seem to cross my eyes." 

" I think you are quite beautiful/' said 
Phyllis. 

" Ah, but you should see my mate," said the 
meadow lark. " He is much more beautiful 
than I. My feathers seem pale and faded when 
I walk beside him. When fall comes, however, 
my own colours will brighten/* 

" On what shall you feed your little ones ! M 

" When I tell you, you will see again that 
I am wise in choosing this place for a nest. 

"My babies need nevei grow hungry, f^v 
the gn dfl are always Calling. The beel 



164 THE LARK 

and worms and ants are always walking by. 
The moths and the butterflies are for ever lay- 
ing their eggs in all sorts of convenient places. 
You remember how their eggs do not hatch out 
into butterflies and moths at once. They are 
just ugly little worms called grubs/ ' 

" Yes," said Phyllis, " I remember/ ' 

The meadow lark carefully tucked an egg 
farther under her soft brown feathers. 

" I am glad/' she said, " that my eggs do 
not hatch out as grubs. Perhaps if they did, 
I should care no more for my babies than the 
butterfly does for hers. I am told that she 
does not even know her own children. " 

" You are quite right,' ' said Phyllis. " She 
herself told me so." 

The meadow lark gave a low whistle and 
nervously flitted her tail, showing the white 
feathers with which it was edged. 



IN THE MEADOW 165 

" It has been some time since I have heard 
your clear, sweet whistle," said Phyllis. " I 
thought you must have left our meadow. You 
have a most beautiful voice." 

" Oh, no, we shall not soon leave your 
meadow, Phyllis. In the autumn we may join 
a party of larks and take our family to the 
marshes for awhile, but we shall return. 
Meadow larks do sometimes go south for the 
winter, but usually they live their lives in their 
home meadows. " 

" Then you will sing for me again? " asked 
the little girl. 

" Oh, with pleasure," said the meadow 
lark. 

" You remember how we used to sing in the 
spring? Just now our thoughts are so taken 
up with our nesting that we have little time 
for song. But later, when the little ones are 



166 THE LARK 

able to care for themselves, I shall gladly 
whistle to you once more." 

' ' I shall listen for you, ' ' said Phyllis. ' ' Just 
now I must go, for I hear my mother 's voice. 
Good-bye, meadow lark! " 

And the meadow lark from her nest whistled 
a low good-bye. 



THE SONG OF THE MERRY LARK 1 

Once there was an old gray pussy, and she 
went down into the meadow, where she saw a 
merry lark flying among the tall reeds; and 
pussy said, " Where are you going, little 
lark? " 

And the merry lark answered, " I am going 
to the king to sing him a song this fine May 
morning. " 

And pussy said, " Come here, little lark, and 
I'll let you see a pretty ring round my neck/ 1 

But the lark said, " No, no, gray pussy; no, 
no! You worried the little mouse, but yon 
shall not worry me." 

1 Permission of A k Company. 

1C7 



168 THE LARK 

Then the lark flew away till he came to 
a high oak-tree, and there he saw a gray, 
greedy hawk sitting. And the gray, greedy 
hawk said, " Where are you going, pretty 
lark? " 

And the lark answered, ' ' I am going to the 
king, to sing him a song this fine May morn- 

• 9 9 

ing. 

And the gray, greedy hawk said, " Come 
here, little lark, and I'll let you see a pretty 
feather in my wing." 

But the merry lark said, " No, no, gray, 
greedy hawk, no, no! You pecked at the little 
linnet, but you shall not peck at me." 

Then the lark flew away till he came to the 
side of a rock, and there he saw a sly fox 
sitting. And the sly fox said, " Where are you 
going, sweet lark? " 

And the lark answered, " I am going to the 



THE SONG OF THE MERRY LARK 169 

king, to sing liim a song this fine May morn- 
ing." 

And the sly fox said, " Come, little lark, 
and I'll let you see a pretty white spot on the 
tip of my tail." 

But the lark said, " No, no, sly fox; no, no! 
You worried the little lamb, but you shall not 
worry me." 

Then the merry lark flew away till he came 
to the garden of the king; and there he sat 
among the red clover blossoms and sang his 
sweetest song. 

And the king said to the queen, " What shall 
wo do for this little lark w r ho has sung so sweet 
a song to us? " 

And the queen said to the king, " I think we 
must have some May-day games for the little 
lark, and invite robin redbreast to sing with 
him." 



170 THE LARK 

So the gay robin redbreast came and sang 
with the lark. 

And the king and the queen and all the fine 
lords and ladies danced and made merry while 
the little birds sang. 

And after that the lark flew away home to 
his own green meadow, where the old gray 
pussy-cat still lived among the tall reeds. 



SAVED BY A LARK 1 

Little Helen was four years old. She lived 
in the country in a white house with green 
window blinds. The house stood in a large 
yard, and had pretty flowers in front of it and 
a row of big maple-trees on each side. 

Behind the house was an orchard, where the 
birds liked to build their nests and sing their 
sweet songs. Helen had a swing between two 
large apple-trees which stood a little way from 
the back door. She could swing ever so high, 
and could almost touch the green apples on one 
of the branches. 

Back of the orchard and garden stood three 
big red barns. These barns were full of won- 

1 Permission of American Book CompaDy. 

171 



172 THE LARK 

ders for Helen. She was always glad to go 
into them with her father, and see the piles of 
corn and wheat, the plows and wagons, and 
the many other things that were there. 

One morning in the harvest-time Helen was 
standing alone upon the door-step. The sun 
shone bright; the robins were singing in the 
apple-trees; the grasshoppers were chirping 
in the lane; but Helen heard only the sound 
of the far-off reaper, as it came to her through 
the soft morning air. She knew that her father 
was with the reaper. 

Don't you know what a reaper is? It is 
that with which the farmer cuts his grain when 
it is ripe. It is drawn by horses, and it cuts 
down the grain stalks with many sharp knives, 
which move back and forth very fast. 

" I think I will go out to the field and help 
father,'' said Helen to herself. 



SAVED BY A LARK 173 

In another moment the little feet were 
turned toward the harvest field. 

Across the orchard and down the lane she 
went, carrying her sunbonnet in her hand and 
talking to the grasshoppers, which would 
somehow get in her way. 

But when at last she came to the field, she 
saw the men and the reaper far away toward 
the other side. 

Helen kept on across the field, for she 
thought that she would soon catch up with 
the men. But it did not take long for the 
little feet to grow very tired. 

Then she sat down on a sheaf of wheat and 
looked around her, wishing that her father 
would come. 

Just in front of her the tall yellow grain 
was still standing. Helen wondered why her 
father had not cut it down. 



174 THE LARK 

As she was looking, a lark flew out from 
among the grain singing a rich, clear song. 
The little child clapped her hands for joy. 
Then she jumped from her seat and ran 
toward the place from which the bird had 
flown. 

" There is a nest in there, and I am going 
to find it," said Helen to herself. She parted 
the tall yellow wheat-stalks to right and left, 
and went forward, looking all about her with 
her bright, sharp eyes. She did not have to go 
very far, for right before her was the nest, 
sure enough, and in it were three little birds. 

Was there ever anything so cunning as 
those little heads, with their tiny bills wide 
open! It was such a pretty place for a nest, 
too. Helen clapped her hands again, she was 
so happy. 

Then she sat down by the nest, but she did 



SAVED BY A LARK 175 

not touch the birdies. It was like being in a 
golden forest, for the grain was high above 
her head. 

Soon her eyes began to feel heavy, for she 
was very tired after her long walk. She sat 
down, with her head upon her arm, and in a 
short time was fast asleep. 

On came the horses, drawing the great 
reaper with its sharp cutting knives. Helen's 
father was driving, and they were coming 
right toward the spot where the little child 
was lying! 

Oh, Helen, little does your father think that 
you are hidden there in the tall grain! 

What was it that made the farmer check his 
horses all at once? Did something tell him 
that his dear baby was in danger? 

Oh. no! ho thought that she was safe at 
home with her mother. But he was a good 



176 THE LARK 

man with a kind heart, and he saw something 
that made him stop. 

The lark was flying wildly about over the 
grain that was in front of the reaper. She 
seemed to say, " Stop! stop! " The farmer 
thought that he knew what she meant, and 
he was too kind-hearted to harm a bird's nest. 
So he said to one of the men, " Here, Tom, 
come and hold the horses. There must be a 
nest somewhere among this grain. I will 
walk in and look for it." 

What a cry the men heard when he found 
little Helen fast asleep by the lark's nest! 
How his heart almost stood still when he 
thought of the danger that she had been in! 
He caught her up in his arms and covered her 
face with kisses. " Oh, my darling! " he said, 
" it was the lark that saved you! " 

Yes, it was the lark, and his own kind heart, 



SAVED BY A LARK 177 

that had saved her. Helen was carried home 
in her father's strong arms. She could not 
understand what made the tears rim down 
his cheeks. 

It was some time before the men could go on 
with their work. They left the grain standing 
around the lark's nest, to thank her, as they 
said, for saving little Helen. 

As they stood looking at the little birds in 
the nest, one of the men, with big tears in his 
eyes, said, " God bless the birds! Come away, 
boys, and let the little mother feed her 
babies." 



ALL ABOUT THE MEADOW LARK 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Usually resident — sometimes goes south in 
late October, returning in April. 

Song — a very beautiful sweet, clear whistle 

— heard in the early spring and in the autumn 

— usually quite silent during brooding season. 
Female much paler in colour than male. 

General colour brown streaked with brown and 
black and cream — breast and throat yellow 

— conspicuous black crescent on breast — 
brown streak on head appearing to run 
through the eyes — tail feathers edged with 
white, which is seen most plainly when bird 
is in flight. 

178 



ALL ABOUT THE MEADOW LARK 179 

Food — seeds, insects, larval insects, also 
swallows gravel to aid in digestion. 

Xest made of grasses — built on the ground 
amid tall grass or grain — usually quite skil- 
fully hidden and arched or roofed over in a 
very ingenious way. 

Eggs — four in number — about an inch and 
an eighth in length, a pure white, speckled 
with brown. 

Greatest danger from snakes and field-mice. 

Meadow lark is not really a lark, but be- 
longs to the blackbird family. 



THE OWL 



1K1 



THE OWL 

A GOOD -NIGHT 

" Haw-haw! Hoo! hoo! " 

Phyllis listened again. 

" Haw-haw! Hoo! hoo! Hoo! Hoo! " 

" Oh, I see yon now! " langhed Phyllis. 

The owl moved silently as a shadow and 
perched very near to the little girl. His great 
round eyes and his yellow bill gleamed in the 
starlight. 

" I heard you calling! " said Phyllis. " But 
I could not at first tell just where you were. 
I looked in a dozen trees before I came to 



you." 



183 



184 THE OWL 

" To- who? To-who-whoo-oo-oo ? " ques- 
tioned the owl. 

Phyllis laughed again. The owl blinked 
wisely. 

" I am going home to-morrow, " Phyllis 
said. " I shall start to school next week. 
Some day, perhaps, I shall be as wise as you, 
Mr. Owl." 

The owl only blinked his great eyes. 

" But I'm sure I can never look so wise," 
she added, politely. 

" Hoo-hoo-hoo-oo ! " hooted the owl, blink- 
ing sleepily. 

" If you will not talk with me I shall say 
good-night to you at once! " said Phyllis. 

" To-who? To-who-ooo-oo-oo? " 

" To-you! To-you-oo-oo-oo ! " called Phyl- 
lis, running off laughing. 

Papa," she said, a few moments later. 



u 




T 



he owl only 
blinked his great 



eyes 



a 



A GOOD -NIGHT 185 



Papa, the hoot-owl would not talk with 



me: 



Wise, wise owl! f} said papa, smiling at 
her over his newspaper. 



THE OWL 

When cats run home, and light is come 
And dew is cold upon the ground, 

And the far-off stream is dumb, 
And the whirring sail goes round, 
And the whirring sail goes round, 

Alone and warming his five wits 

The white owl in the belfry sits. 

— Tennyson. 



186 



THE OWL GIRL 

Once a very queer little girl lived in a vil- 
lage beside the great Yukon River. 

This little girl did not care to play with 
other children. Indeed, all day long she 
would sit inside the stone hut and sleep. 

But as soon as evening came the little girl 
would awaken. She would run out to the 
river-bank to pla} T . She would shout and 
laugh. 

She did not mind the dark. In fact she 
declared that the sun hurt her eyes and that 
she could see far better in the dark. 

The child's mother said that for all her 
queemess the little girl was very wise. She 
knew many things which grown-up people 
had never heard. 

187 



188 THE OWL 

The people of the village shook their heads. 
They said there was magic in it all, and that 
some day something strange would surely 
happen. 

So, when at sunset the queer little girl ran 
shouting to the river, the people of the village 
watched from the bushes. 

And sure enough, something very wonderful 
did happen! 

One evening the little girl with her big 
shiny eyes ran shouting among the trees 
which grew beside the river. 

She was chasing a little field-mouse, which 
at last ran tremblingly up the low branch of 
a tree and hid in the dark. 

But the queer little girl, who could see 
quite well in the dark, jumped to follow 
the mouse. 

Lo, as she jumped, the queer little girl 



THE OWL GIRL 189 

changed into a bird with a long, long beak 
and great shining eyes! 

Now when she saw what had happened to 
her she was frightened. In her fright she flew 
back to her mother's stone hut. 

But now that she was a bird she did not 
remember about the doors and windows. She 
flew wildly against the stone wall of the house. 

So rapid was her flight that she struck the 
wall with great force. Her long bill and her 
face were quite flattened by the blow. 

She forgot her mother's house, and in pain 
flew again to the trees by the river. 

The next night the mother heard the voice 
of her queer little girl among the leaves call- 
ing, " Whoo-whoo-whoo! " 

But when she looked she saw only a flat- 
faced, big-eyed bird who was making a supper 
of the poor little field-mouse. 



THE OWL AND THE RAVEN 1 

Once upon a time the owl and the raven 
were fast friends. 

They lived beside the same stream. They 
built their nests in a tree side by side. They 
sang the same songs. They ate the same food. 
They wore dresses of the same pale gray. 

There was nothing that these friends would 
not do for each other. So great was their 
friendship that each was always finding ways 
to surprise and please the other. 

At one time the raven was absent for two 
whole days. 

" What can he be doing? " said the owl to 

1 Adapted from Ethnological Bureau Keport. 

190 



THE OWL AND THE RAVEN 191 

herself. 44 I know he is planning some new 
surprise for me. ' ' 

When, on the third day, the raven returned, 
the owl knew from his contented looks that 
the present must be unusually fine. 

"It is something more than a beetle or a 
field-mouse this time," she thought. " Now 
what can I do for him? He is always so kind 
to me! " 

Then the owl began to look about for some- 
thing to do for her friend the raven. 

On the shore near their home tree a huge 
whale had once been caught and cut up by 
the Eskimo hunters. Some of the bones still 
lay upon the sandy beach. 

" Oh," said the owl, as she chanced upon 
these whalebones, " I know the very thing 
which will please my dear friend the raven! 

" I will make for him a pair of beautiful 



192 THE OWL 

whalebone boots! With them he can walk 
over the sharp rocks and the icy cliffs in com- 
fort and safety! " 

Thereupon the owl sat down in the sand 
and went to work. It was not long until the 
boots were finished. They were beautifully 
smooth and slender and graceful. 

" The raven cannot help being pleased," 
she said, as she carried the boots toward the 
home tree. " I wonder if he is in! ' 

As she drew near the owl heard the raven 
calling her name. Answering loudly, she hur- 
ried to the place where he waited. But before 
the raven saw her she hid the whalebone 
boots among the grasses, that she might sur- 
prise him later. 

She found the raven hopping impatiently 
about and calling loudly. 

" Here — here I am! " she cried. " I have 



THE OWL AND THE RAVEN 193 

been away for but a short time — but you 
were away for days! " 

" Oh, owl, dear," replied the raven, 
" though I have been absent I have thought 
only of you! 

" See! here is a beautiful new dress which 
I have made for you! " And the raven spread 
before his friend a beautiful dress of dappled 
black and w T hite. 

It was made of the softest, most beautiful 
feathers, lovely enough to delight the heart of 
any bird. 

" Oh, how very beautiful! " cried the owl. 
" How kind you are to me! How did you ever 
think of anything so lovely? " 

The raven smiled, well pleased with him- 
self. 

" Try it on," he said. " I am sure it will 
become you. I am certain that when you see 



194 THE OWL 

how lovely you look, you will never again 
wish to wear anything but black and white." 

Quickly the owl slipped from her old gray 
dress into the splendid new one. Gently she 
fluttered about and ruffled the soft black and 
white feathers. 

" Where did you get them? " she said, cir- 
cling about and looking at her tail for the 
twentieth time. 

" Sit down," commanded the raven, " and 
I will tell you! " So the owl settled down 
on the branch beside the raven. 

" I found the feathers on that steep, rocky 
cliff beside the sea," he said. " The stones 
were sharp and the winds were wearying, but 
at last I finished the dress just as I planned. 

" I am glad that you are pleased. I am very 
tired now, and must sit still and rest." 

So delighted was the owl that for a moment 



THE OWL AND THE RAVEN 195 

she had forgotten the whalebone boots. Now 
as she looked at the raven she saw that in 
scratching about for the feathers he had 
broken one of his pink toes. 

With a little cry of pity she flew to the 
grasses where the boots were hidden. Quickly 
she snatched them up and flew back to the 
poor tired raven. 

"Here," she cried, "here! — I thought 
of you while you were away. Now you shall 
put your tired feet into these strong whale- 
bone boots. The stones and the ice cannot 
hurt you again." 

" Oh, oh! " croaked the raven. " They are 
the very things for which I have been long- 
ing! " 

" Put them on! Put them on! " cried the 
owl. " See how they will rest you! They will 
make you feel quite young again! " 



196 THE OWL 

The raven slipped his tired feet into the 
whalebone boots. Straight away the old tired 
ache left him. He hopped gaily about and 
croaked cheerfully. 

" How graceful! " he said. "How perfectly 
they fit! How comfortable/' 

" Now I shall make a coat for you/' said 
the owl. " It shall be pure white. The 
feathers shall be the shiniest and the loveli- 
est that I can find! " 

By and bye the raven's white coat was ready 
to be fitted. 

" Come/' commanded the owl. " Come and 
stand still while I fit your coat." 

The raven came, but so delighted was he 
with the whalebone boots that he could not 
stand still. As the owl worked over him he 
kept hopping and dancing about. 

" Stand still! " cried the owl. " I can do 



THE OWL AND THE RAVEN 197 

nothing with you hopping about so. I shall 
stick the pin-feathers into you! " 

For an instant the raven stood still, look- 
ing down at the boots. Then he jumped so 
suddenly that the owl dropped a whole claw- 
ful of the soft white feathers with which she 
was finishing the neck. 

Then the owl grew very angry. 

" Stand still! " she hooted. " If you jump 
another time I will throw the oil from the 
lamp on you! " 

Now the lamp was filled with whale-oil. In 
it wicks of moss and twisted grass had been 
burned. With time and many wicks the oil 
had become as black as soot. 

The raven looked at the black, sooty oil and 
then at his new white coat. He really stood 
still for as much as two minutes. 

Just as the owl was trying to decide 



198 THE OWL 

whether or not the coat should be longer, to 
cover the tops of the new boots, the raven 
caught sight of his own reflection in the clear 
water below. 

So pleased was he with his appearance that 
he flapped his wings, and jumped up and 
down. 

The loose white feathers flew in every direc- 
tion. The pin-feathers dropped to the ground. 
The angry owl gasped for breath. 

Then in a rage she seized the lamp. She 
flung it at the raven. Alas, for the poor 
fellow! The oil struck him full on the 
head. It ran down before. It ran down 
behind! There was not a dry feather on 
him! 

" Quag! Quag! " croaked he, the oil drip- 
ping down on all sides " Quag! Quag! I 
shall never speak to you again! " 



THE OWL AND THE RAVEN 199 



. . 



No," cried the owl. " Do not speak 
to me again. I would not have such a 
sooty friend as you! " and she flew far 
away. 



THE OWL 

When icicles hang by the wall. 

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, 

And Tom bears logs into the hall, 

And milk comes frozen home in pail; 

When blood is nipped and ways be foul, 

Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
" Tu-who! 

Tu-whit! tu-who! " a merry note, 

While greasy Jean doth clean the pot. 

— " Love's Labour's Lost," Shakespeare. 



200 



ALL ABOUT THE BARRED OR HOOT 

OWL 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Notes — deep-toned, startling hoot. 

Heard most frequently at nesting time. 

Upper parts brown, marked with white — 
face gray, mottled with black, wings and tail 
barred with brown, eyes blue black, bill yel- 
low, under parts buff marked with darker, 
legs and feet feathered, bill and claws dark, 
hooked, strong. 

Feeds on chicken, mice, etc. 

Usually take an old crow's or woodpecker's 
nest for their own use — rarely make nests 
for themselves. Nest very early in the season, 
young being sometimes ready to fly early in 
March. 

201 



THE BOBOLINK 



203 



THE BOBOLINK 

A SUMMER SONG 

He sat upon the tallest bending grass stalk. 
He paid not the slightest attention to Phyllis. 
He just swung lightly with the June breezes, 
and sang his little heart out. 

Such a careless, joyous, jingling song Phyl- 
lis had never before heard. It seemed just a 
bubbling-over of happiness and gladness. 

And such a common-looking little fellow to 
have such a wonderful voice! He was but a 
little larger than a sparrow. 

His plumage was mostly black. His wings 

and tail were ed^ed with pale yellow, and 

as 



206 THE BOBOLINK 

there were splashes of white in places on his 
body. There was a light yellow spot on the 
back of his neck. 

" You seem filled with gladness," said Phyl- 
lis. 

The little bird stared at her for a moment. 
Then he nodded his head, and quivered his 
small wings. He opened his mouth again and 
warbled out the j oiliest, sweetest tune that 
bird throat ever sang. 

" How very beautiful! " cried Phyllis. 
" What a world of happiness you send out in 
that song! " 

" Ah, but I should be happy," warbled the 
sweet-voiced bobolink. " I have all that bird 
heart can wish! " 

" Tell me - " said Phyllis. 

" I at last have won my wife," sang the 
bobolink. " At this very moment, in this very 



. 



She is sitting on a 
nestful of light 
blue eggs' " 



V;\l 



/ 



* ~ * 



V y 



A SUMMER SONG 207 

field, she is sitting on a nestful of light blue 
eggs. 

" Listen, Phyllis, and I will tell you all 
about it. 

" It was about the middle of May when my 
brothers and I started north. All winter long 
we had wandered through the rice-fields of 
the South. 

" We were not happy there. We feared 
for our lives. There we are not called bobo- 
links and the people of the South never listen 
for our songs. 

" In fact we seldom sing when we are in 
the South. The hunters call us ' rice-birds ' 
or ' reed-birds/ With their terrible guns 
they hunt us early and late. 

14 It was no wonder, then, that we were so 
glad to return to the North. It was a long 
journey, but we did not tire. In fact we trav- 



208 THE BOBOLINK 

elled mostly at night. During the day we 
feasted in the fields or at grain stacks. 

" For a few days we flew about here, and 
sang out our names to every passer-by. 

" Just ten days after our arrival something 
very wonderful happened. Our sisters and 
wives and sweethearts came with fluttering 
wings and sweet, quiet ways. 

" On that very day I met the lovely bird 
who now broods so gently over our eggs. 

" She seemed to me the most beautiful 
bobolink that ever was. Early and late I 
sang to her. My most beautiful songs 
seemed not half good enough for so lovely 
a bird. 

" I, alas, was not the only bobolink who 
admired her. My own brother was quite as 
delighted with her. He, too, sang to her. 

" Sometimes we sat in the same tree, each 



A SUMMER SONG 209 

of us singing our hearts out to the shy little 
creature whom we both loved. 

" I am sorry to say we did more than sing 
for the demure little bird. We fought for her. 
We quarrelled fiercely. But at last it was I 
who won her, and my brother found for him- 
self another wife." 

" I wish I could find your nest/' said Phyl- 
lis. 

" It is in this field/' said the bobolink. " It 
is near the brook, and every morning we both 
fly down there for a refreshing bath. 

" I have told you all this, and yet, Phyllis, 
I venture to say that you might hunt all day 
among the grasses and not find my nest. For 
the leaves and the grasses bend over and about 
the nest where my little mate sits. 

" Should I call to her she would come to 
me. You perhaps would run to the spot 



210 THE BOBOLINK 

where she rose from the grass. But you 
would not find the nest. 

" My wife in her quiet brown dress is too 
wise for that. She never flies up directly from 
the nest. She runs a distance among the 
grass stems and then starts up from the 
grasses. 

" There are five eggs in the nest, light blue 
with spots of blackish brown. 

" When they are hatched, you will hear 
very little music from me. I shall put on a 
quiet dress, much like the one which my mate 
now wears, and will work early and late bring- 
ing food to my babies. 

" They shall have the very choicest grains 
and bugs and grasshoppers. There will soon 
be no time for singing." 

" But when the little ones are grown — " 
said Phyllis. 



A SUMMER SONG 211 

" Oh, yes, then I will sing again for you. 
But listen, Phyllis! " 

Phyllis heard a sweet little " Chink! Chink! 
Chink! " 

" My little mate is calling," gurgled the 
bobolink, flying away and leaving the grass- 
top swaying wildly. 



ROBERT OF LINCOLN 

Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 
Near to the nest of his little dame, 
Over the mountainside or mead, 
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name. 
" Bobolink, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink; 
Snug and safe is that nest of ours, 
Hidden among the summer flowers, 
Chee, chee, chee! " 

Robert of Lincoln is gaily drest, 
Wearing a bright black wedding-coat, 

White are his shoulders and white his crest. 
Hear him call in his merry note: 

212 



ROBERT OF LINCOLN 213 

11 Bobolink, bob-o'-link, 

Spink, spank, spink; 
Look what a nice new coat is mine. 
Sure there was never a bird so fine! 

Chee, ehee, chee! " 

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, 

Pretty and quiet in plain brown wings, 
Passing at home a patient life, 

Broods in the grass while her husband 
sings : 

" Bobolink, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink: 
Brood, kind creature, you need not fear 
Thieves and robbers while I am here! 
Chpe. chee, chee! M 

— Brvant. 



ALL ABOUT THE BOBOLINK OR 
RICEBIRD 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Male arrives north middle of May. — Fe- 
male comes some ten or twelve days later — 
travel generally by night and in flocks. — 
Mies south from August to October. 

Song is most musical and sweet, expressing 
joy and careless happiness — the song of the 
female is but a short, sweet " Chink, chink/ ' 
— While the young are being cared for, the 
male does not sing as he does earlier in the 
season, but takes up the plaintive " chink " 
of his mate. 

Male in spring is black with pale yellow 

214 



ALL ABOUT THE BOBOLINK 215 

markings on back and wings and tail. Yel- 
low spot on back of neck — a patch of white 
on breast and other white markings. 

Female pale yellow beneath — upper parts 
generally brown — two dark stripes on top of 
the head. In autumn plumage of male re- 
sembles female. 

Nest of grasses well hidden by thick leaves 

and stems. — Usually built in clump of 

grasses and always on the ground and very 
shallow. 

Eggs are pale blue with dark brown spots. 
— Four or five in number. — Young birds 
when fully feathered are so alike that in a 
flock young cannot be distinguished from old. 



THE SEA-DOVES AND THE 
GREAT BLUE HERON 



217 



THE SEA-DOVES 

AND THE 

GREAT BLUE HERON 

BESIDE THE SEA 

One hot August day Phyllis went to the 
seashore to live. 

11 Such fun," she cried, as the train drew 
up at the seaside station. " Such fun as I 
shall have playing in the sand and wading in 
the water." 

It was not half an hour before she was run- 
ning along the beach beside the cliffs. Her 
feet were bare, and she wriggled her toes in 

219 



220 SEA-DOVES AND BLUE HERON 

the sand and splashed into the puddles of 
water. 

Presently she saw a number of little birds 
running along the beach and flying over the 
water. 

" How swiftly they fly, and how well they 
dive," she said. " How easily they swim, and 
they sometimes settle on the waves and rest. 
I wish they would come nearer! " 

" I will tell you about them," said a solemn 
voice near by. Phyllis stumbled in her sur- 
prise and splashed the water into her eyes. 
When she could see again, a great blue heron 
was standing near. 

" Oh! " cried Phyllis, a bit frightened. " It 
is strange that I did not see you. Yes, do tell 
me about the little sea-bird — and about your- 
self also! " 

So the blue heron drew his head down be- 



BESIDE THE SEA 221 

tween his shoulders, and, standing on one leg, 
told Phyllis what he knew of the little sea- 
doves. 

" That little bird with brown back and 
white breast loves the sea," said the heron. 
" He is never tired of the blue waves. 

" In stormy weather the little sea-dove is 
most happy, because it is then that the waves 
are laden with small fish and crabs. During 
stormy weather the little fisherman grows fat. 

" Watch them as they fly. Do you see how 
they are constantly dipping their bills into the 
water? That is their way of fishing. 

" The sea-doves' nests are among the cliffs. 
In them they lay just two bluish- white little 
eggs. 

" Sometimes, when the winds are very 
strong, the sea-doves are blown far inland. 
Sometimes they find their way back to the 



222 SEA-DOVES AND BLUE HERON 

sea. But there are other times when they do 
not return." 

" And where is your own nest, Great 
Blue Heron? " asked Phyllis, half laughing 
at the queer, long-legged bird. 

"It is over yonder on a rock," said the 
heron. " There are now four dull blue-green 
eggs in the nest. 

" Soon there will be four ugly, helpless bird- 
lings, who will sit up and cry for food. It 
will be at least three weeks after they are 
hatched before they will try to wade out into 
these flat sea-marshes. I shall have to let no 
fish escape me, if I do not wish the fledglings 
to starve." 

" You do not think your babies pretty? " 
asked Phyllis. 

" No," said the heron, truthfully, " they are 
not even so good-looking as other birds' 



BESIDE THE SEA 223 

babies. But that I do not mind, for will 
they not some day be as beautiful as I my- 
self? " 

" Yes/' said Phyllis, " I have seen your 
picture many a time. In mother's room is a 
large screen and on it is your likeness embroi- 
dered in silks. The long green grasses are 
growing about you in the picture. One foot 
is drawn up and your head is drawn down be- 
tween your shoulders just as it now is." 

" That is the way to rest," said the heron. 

" What were you doing here? " Phyllis 
asked, wading a little closer to the long-legged 
bird. 

" I was fishing," said the great blue heron. 
" It is the one thing I delight in. From morn- 
ing till night — " 

" My brother Jack — " began Phyllis, but 
the bird paid no attention. 



224 SEA-DOVES AND BLUE HERON 

" I sometimes stand here perfectly still for 
hours. I wait patiently for the fish or the 
frogs to appear. 

" Then I strike suddenly with my strong, 
sharp bill. I snap up the fish or frog and give 
it a knock or two to kill it. 

" Then I eat it. If it is a fish I swallow it, 
head first, so that the scales shall not scratch 
my throat. 

" But see, Phyllis, the sun has set, and I 
have not yet had my supper. I really must 
leave you! " 

Then the great blue heron rose slowly and 
silently and circled away over the flat sea- 
marshes. Barefooted Phyllis scampered back 
to the little seaside cottage, where a fish 
supper was awaiting her. 



SEA - PIGEONS 

It was very early in the spring. The sun 
rose, stayed for only a moment above the hori- 
zon, and then sank again from the sight of 
Eskimo children. 

But already huge icebergs broke from the 
shore and floated out to sea. Already the icy 
winds hurried away farther north. Already 
a few of the bravest birds were returning for 
the summer season. 

It happened that a whole family of Eskimo 
children ran shouting and laughing along the 
top of a cliff which overhung the sea. 

The older ones cared for the little ones. All 
were as happy and thoughts children 



226 SEA-BOVES AND BLUE HERON 

could be. In their glee they took off their 
boots and ran with bare feet. 

Now below the cliff on the ice waited some 
Eskimo hunters. They watched the huge 
cakes of ice farther out break off and float 
away. They knew that soon the ice nearer 
shore would crack and float off in the same 
manner. 

They knew also that when the shore ice 
cracked the seals would rise and push their 
noses out of the water for air. 

The hunters, therefore, sat for hours upon 
their three-legged stools, waiting with ever- 
ready spears. 

The children, not seeing the hunters, ran 
more noisily among the high rocks of the 
cliff. 

At last with a booming sound the ice 
cracked and spread apart. The water gushed 



SEA - PIGEONS 227 

up and spread lightly over the ice. The 
hunters waited breathlessly. 

It was but a moment before the brown nose 
of a seal appeared. The hunters lifted their 
spears to strike. But at that instant came a 
wilder shout from the children and the brown 
nose of the seal disappeared. 

" Oh," cried the hunter, angrily, " I wish 
the cliff would topple over on those noisy 
children! " 

Hardly were the words spoken when 
with a great clash the cliff did topple over. 
As the falling stones rattled about him 
the hunter heard the shrieks of the 
children. 

Neither the hunters nor the children were 
ever again seen in the village. But the next 
day some birds with pink wet feet ran about 
among the stones at the foot of the cliffs. As 



228 SEA-DOVES AND BLUE HERON 

they ran they made strange cries which 
sounded half like children's laughter. 

" Listen/ ' say the Eskimo people, when 
they hear the sea-pigeons cry, " Listen to the 
voices of the little children who . shouted so 
loud that they frightened away the seals! " 

" Look! " cry the Eskimo children, when 
they see the pink feet of the sea-pigeons, 
" those are the cold, bare little feet of the 
Eskimo children who ran and shouted on the 
cliffs above! " 



THE SANDPIPER 1 

Across the narrow beach we flit, 

One little sandpiper and I; 
And fast I gather, bit by bit, 

The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. 
The wild waves reach their hands for it, 

The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, 
As up and down the beach we flit, — 

One little sandpiper and I. 

Above our heads the sullen clouds 
Scud black and swift across the sky; 

Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds 
Stand out the white lighthouses high. 

1 Used by permission of and special arrangement with Houghton, 
Mifflin & Co. 

229 



230 SEA-DOVES AND BLUE HERON 

Almost as far as eye can reach 
I see the close-reefed vessels fly, 

As fast we flit along the beach, — 
One little sandpiper and I. 



I watch him as he skims along, 

Uttering his sweet and mournful cry; 
He starts not at my fitful song, 

Or flash of fluttering drapery; 
He has no thought of any wrong; 

He scans me with a fearless eye. 
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, 

The little sandpiper and I. 

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night 
When the loosed storm breaks furiously? 

My driftwood fire will burn so bright! 
To what warm shelter canst thou fly? 






THE SANDPIPER 231 

I do not fear for thee, though wroth 
The tempest rushes through the sky ; 

For are we not God's children both, 
Thou, little sandpiper, and I? 

— Mrs. Thaxter. 



THE CIRCLING OF CRANES 

One autumn day ages and ages ago, the 
cranes were preparing to go south. Cranes 
always dreaded the cold and flew away 
to the summer-land at the first glitter of the 
frost. 

The crane leader had a loud, hoarse voice, 
and he called and called to his flock to hurry. 
The cranes came from all directions at the call 
of their leader. The father and mother 
cranes came. The old cranes came and the 
young cranes came. Even the babies, whose 
feathers were scarce grown, came flying at the 
call of the leader. 

All the cranes were happy, for they were 

232 



THE CIRCLING OF CRANES 233 

going to the summer-land. They were glad to 
go, for already the frost jewels sparkled on 
the brown grasses and the cold winds were 
beginning to blow. 

" Come! come! " cried the crane leader, and 
his voice was hoarse with shouting. " Come! 
It is full time we were off! " 

Young and old spread their wings for flight. 
They waited a moment for their leader to take 
his place. As they waited the cranes glanced 
down to the cold, bare country which they were 
about to leave. 

Thus looking down, the cranes saw a beau- 
tiful maiden standing alone at the edge of the 
village. 

" How lovely she is! " said the crane leader. 
" And how lonely she seems! " 

" How thin her dress is! " said another 
crane. 



234 SEA-DOVES AND BLUE HERON 



U 



See, she is weeping! " cried a third. Just 
at that moment the maiden looked up and 
saw the flock of cranes above her. 

" Oh," she cried, " you are going to the 
summer-land. I wish I had wings. I would 
fly away with you! 

" Alas! in this cold, cheerless Northland I 
shall starve and freeze. I have no home. I 
have no friends. 

" There is no oil in my stone stove! There 
is no meat in my kettle. What shall I do 
when the thick snow flies and the winter 
winds cut like knives? " 

The crane leader looked down at the beau- 
tiful maiden in pity. The whole flock, young 
and old, were filled with a wish to help the 
girl. It was very sad, they said, that one so 
young and lovely should ever be cold or hun- 
gry or unhappy. 



THE CIRCLING OF CRANES 235 

" Let us carry the maiden with us to the 
summer-land! " whispered a young crane. 

" Yes, let us take her to the land of ever- 
lasting summer," begged an old crane. 

" There she might gather food from the 
grain-fields. She might pick berries by the 
roadside. She might drink from the clear, 
cool brooks that run to the sea," said the 
leader. 

Following their leader, the whole flock 
swept down to the earth. They gathered about 
the lovely, lonely maiden. 

They lifted her on their widespread wings 
and bore her up into the air. 

The maiden's long dark hair floated out like 
a cloud. She smiled happily as the cranes 
with one voice told her of the summer-land 
to which they would carry her. 

With wings outspread, that she might not 



236 SEA-DOVES AND BLUE HERON 

fall, the cranes bore the maiden away. Day 
and night, night and day, they carried her and 
never seemed to tire. 

And the maiden had no fear. She laughed 
in sheer happiness when they told her again 
and again of the beautiful country to which 
they journeyed. 

For into that land, the cranes told her, 
neither cold nor hunger came. They would 
show her the richest grain-fields. They would 
tell her where the sweetest berries grew. 
They would show her wondrous blossoms 
which grew for her in the distant summer- 
land. 

The beautiful maiden was never again seen 
in the cold, dreary Northland, for to this day 
she wanders beside the sweet-voiced streams 
in the far-off summer-land. 

But season by season the cranes, with wide- 



THE CIRCLING OF CRANES 237 

spread wings and hoarse cries, return to the 
Northland at nesting-time. 

There they remain through the short sunny 
summer, but when the first snowflakes flutter 
through the air the cranes prepare to fly away. 

And even to this day they circle about on 
widespread wings as though they again car- 
ried the beautiful maiden. 

Even to this day the cranes, young and old, 
shout so loudly the praises of the summer- 
land that their voices are hoarse and harsh. 



ALL ABOUT THE GREAT BLUE HERON 
OR BLUE CRANE 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Usually resident throughout the year. Lives 
in marshy, swampy places. 

Head and throat white, with long black 
crest. — Very long neck covered with light 
gray feathers — darker on chest — back, ashy 
gray — darker wings — a touch of red on 
bend of wings and legs. 

Long legs, which are black. 

Long bill, which is yellow, sharp, and 
strong. 

Food — mostly fish, frogs, and small rep- 
tiles. Feeds near sunset. 

238 



ALL ABOUT THE BLUE HERON 239 

Nest very simple — sometimes directly on 
ground or rocks — at other times a rickety 
platform of sticks. 

Eggs blue-green — four in number — young 
helpless for at least three weeks after hatch- 
ing. 



ALL ABOUT THE SEA -DOVE 

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS 

Goes far north in nesting season. Found 
in Illinois swamps, and as far north as Green- 
land. 

Small bird with entire upper parts almost 
black — under parts white — wings tipped 
with white, bill black — feet pale red — toes 
webbed. 

Food obtained from the waves — flies 
swiftly and dives well — walks on land bet- 
ter than most water-birds. 

Lays but two bluish-white eggs. 

THE END. 



240 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 
The Little Colonel Stories. b> annie 

Fellows Johnston. 

Being three " Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy 
Corner Series, " The Little Colonel," " Two Little 
Knights of Kentucky, " and " The Giant Scissors," put 
into a single volume, owing to the popular demand for a 
uniform series of the stories dealing with one of the 
most popular of juvenile heroines. 

i vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative, fully illus- 
trated $1.50 

The Little Colonel's House Party. 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. Illustrated by 

Louis Meynell. 

One vol., library i2mo, cloth, decorative cover #1.00 

The Little Colonel's Holidays. By 

Annie Fellows Johnston, Illustrated by L. J. 

Bridgman. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . $1.50 

The Little Colonel's Hero. By anme 

Fellows Johnston. Illustrated by E. B. Barry. 
One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative, 

$1.20 net (postage extra) 

The Little Colonel at Boarding 

School. By Annie Fellows Johnston. Illus- 
trated by E. B. Barry. 

1 vol., large i2mo, cloth $1.20 net (postage extra) 

Since the time of M Little Women," no juvenile heroine 
has been better beloved of her child readers than Mrs. 
Johnstorfs " Little Colonel." Each succeeding book has 
been more popular than its predecessor, and now thou- 
sands of little readers wait patiently each year for the 
appearance of " the new Littie Colonel Book." 



2 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 

Beautiful Joe's Paradise ; or, the island 

of Brotherly Love. A sequel to " Beautiful Joe." 
By Marshall Saunders, author of " Beautiful Joe," 
11 For His Country," etc. With fifteen full-page plates 
and many decorations from drawings by Charles Liv- 
ingston Bull. 
One vol., library i2mo, cloth decorative, 

$1.20 net, postpaid, $1.32 

" Will be immensely enjoyed by the boys and girls who 
read it." — Pittsburg Gazette. 

" Miss Saunders has put life, humor, action, and tenderness 
into her story. The book deserves to be a favorite." — 
Chicago Record- Herald. 

" This book revives the spirit of * Beautiful Joe ' capitally. 
It is fairly riotous with fun, and as a whole is about as un- 
usual as anything in the animal book line that has seen the 
light. It is a book for juveniles — old and young." — Phila- 
delphia Item. 

'Tilda Jane. By Marshall Saunders, author 
of " Beautiful Joe," etc. 

One vol., i2mo, fully illustrated, cloth, decorative 
cover $1.50 

41 No more amusing and attractive child's story has ap- 
peared for a long time than this quaint and curious recital of 
the adventures of that pitiful and charming little runaway. 

" It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books 
that win and charm the reader, and I did not put it down 
until I had finished it — honest ! And I am sure that every 
one, young or old, who reads will be proud and happy to 
make the acquaintance of the delicious waif. 

" I cannot think of any better book for children than this. 
I commend it unreservedly." — Cyrus Townsend Brady. 

The Story of the Qraveleys. By mar- 
shall Saunders, author of " Beautiful Joe's Para- 
dise," " 'Tilda Jane," etc. 

Library i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by E. B. 
Barry .... $1.20 net (postage extra) 
Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and 
triumphs, of a delightful New England family, of whose 
devotion and sturdiness it will do the reader good to 
hear. From the kindly, serene-souled grandmother to 
the buoyant madcap, Berry, these Graveleys are folk of 
fibre and blood — genuine human beings. 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



Little Lady Marjorie. By Frances Mar- 
garet Fox, author of " Farmer Brown and the 

Birds," etc. 

1 2mo, cloth, illustrated . $1.20 net (postage extra) 

A charming story for children between the ages of 

ten and fifteen years, with both heart and nature interest. 

The Sandman : his farm stories. b y 

William J. Hopkins. With fifty illustrations by 

Ada Clendenin Williamson. 

One vol., large i2mo, decorative cover, 

$1.20 net) postpaid, $1.38 

" An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of 
children not more than six years old, is 4 The Sandman : His 
Farm Stories.' It should be one of the most popular of the 
year's books for reading to small children." — Buffalo Express. 

" Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take the 
little ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will find this 
book a treasure." — Cleveland Leader. 

The Sandman : more farm stories. By 

William J. Hopkins, author of " The Sandman : 

His Farm Stories." 

Library i2mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated, 

$1.20 net (postage extra) 

Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories has met 
with such approval that this second book of " Sandman " 
tales has been issued for scores of eager children. Life 
on the farm, and out-of-doors, will be portrayed in his 
inimitable manner, and many a little one will hail the 
bedtime season as one of delight. 

A Puritan Knight Errant. By Edith 

Robinson, author of " A Little Puritan Pioneer," " A 

Little Puritan's First Christmas, " " A Little Puritan 

Rebel," etc. 

Library i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 

J 1. 20 net (postage extra) 

The charm of style and historical value of Miss 
Robinson's previous stories of child life in Puritan days 
have brought them wide popularity. Her latest and 
most important book appeals to a large juvenile public. 
The " knight errant " of this story is a little Don Quixote, 
whose trials and their ultimate outcome will prove 
deeply interesting to their reader. 



4 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 

The Great Scoop. By molly Elliot sea- 

well, author of " Little Jarvis," " Laurie Vane," etc. 
i2mo, cloth, with illustrations . . . $1.00 

A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of 
a bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed therein. 
Every boy with an ounce of true boyish blood in him 
will have the time of his life in reading how Dick Hen- 
shaw entered the newspaper business, and how he 
secured " the great scoop." 



Flip's " Islands of Providence." By 

Annie Fellows Johnston, author of "Asa 

Holmes," " The Little Colonel," etc. 

1 2mo, cloth, with illustrations . . . $1.00 

In this book the author of " The Little Colonel " and 
her girl friends and companions shows that she is 
equally at home in telling a tale in which the leading 
character is a boy, and in describing his troubles and 
triumphs in a way that will enhance her reputation as a 
skilled and sympathetic writer of stories for children. 



Songs and Rhymes for the Little 

Ones. Compiled by Mary Whitney Morri- 
son (Jenny Wallis). 

New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. 
Whitney and eight illustrations. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative . . $1.00 
No better description of this admirable book can be 
given than Mrs. Whitney's happy introduction : 

" One might almost as well offer June roses with the 
assurance of their sweetness, as to present this lovely 
little gathering of verse, which announces itself, like 
them, by its deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison's 
charming volume has long been a delight to me, I am 
only too happy to link my name with its new and en- 
riched form in this slight way, and simply declare that it 
is to me the most bewitching book of songs for little 
people that I have ever known." 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 5 

PHYLLIS' HELD FRIENDS SERIES 

By LENORE E. MULETS 

Four vols., cloth decorative, illustrated. Sold sepa- 
rately, or as a set. 

Per volume ...... $0.80 net 

Per set $3.20 net 

1. Insect Stories. 

2. Stories of Little Animals. 

3. Flower Stories. 

4. Bird Stories. 

In this series of four little Nature books, it is the 
author's intention so to present to the child reader the 
facts about each particular flower, insect, bird, or 
animal, in story form, as to make delightful reading of 
the facts of science, which the child is to verify through 
his field lessons and experiences. Classical legends, 
myths, poems and songs are so presented as to correlate 
fully with these lessons, to which the excellent illustra- 
tions are no little help. 

THE WOODRANGER TALES 

By G. WALDO BROWNE 

The Woodranger. 
The Young Gunbearer. 
The Hero of the Hills. 

Each 1 vol., large i2mo, cloth, decorative 
cover, illustrated, per volume . . . . $1.00 
Three vols., boxed, per set . . . . $3.00 
" The Woodranger Tales," like the " Pathfinder 
Tales" of J. Fenimore Cooper, combine historical in- 
formation relating to early pioneer days in America witl 
interesting adventures in the backwoods. Although the 
same characters are continued throughout the series, 
each book is complete in itself, and while based strictly 
on historical facts, is an interesting and exciting tale of 
adventure which will delight all boys and be by no means 
unwelcome to their elders. 



6 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 

The Rosamond Tales. By Cuyler Reyn- 
olds, With 30 full-page illustrations from original 
photographs, and with a frontispiece from a drawing 
by Maud Humphreys. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative . . $1.50 
These are just the bedtime stories that children always 
ask for, but do not always get. Rosamond and Rosa- 
lind are the hero and heroine of many happy adventures 
in town and on their grandfather's farm ; and the happy 
listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a vast 
amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and 
flowers. The book will be a boon to tired mothers, and 
a delight to wide-awake children. 



Larry Hudson's Ambition. ByjAMEs 

Otis, author of "Toby Tyler," etc. Illustrated by 

Eliot Keen. 

One vol., library i2mo, cloth, decorative cover, $1.25 

James Otis, who has delighted the juvenile public 
with so many popular stories, has written the story of 
the rise of the bootblack Larry. Larry is not only 
capable of holding his own and coming out with flying 
colors in the amusing adventures wherein he befriends 
the family of good Deacon Doak; he also has the 
signal ability to know what he wants and to understand 
that hard work is necessary to win. 



Black Beauty z the autobiography of a 

Horse. By Anna Sewell. New Illustrated 
Edition. With nineteen full-page drawings by Wini- 
fred Austin. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, $1.25 
There have been many editions of this classic, but we 
confidently offer this one as the most appropriate and 
handsome yet produced. The illustrations are of special 
value and beauty. Miss Austin is a lover of horses, and 
has delighted in tracing with her pen the beauty and 
grace of the noble animal. 



L 



NOV 9 1903 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



0001733^15 



